


It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)

by thefangirlingdead



Series: It's Not Living (If It's Not With You) - Universe [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Child Abuse, Drug Use, First Time, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Gen, Gore, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Making Love, Never Have I Ever, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefangirlingdead/pseuds/thefangirlingdead
Summary: The first time Klaus gets drunk, he's only thirteen years old, and it's all downhill from there.At least, until he meets Dave.





	1. Collapse My Veins Wearing Beautiful Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since finishing the first season of The Umbrella Academy, I've been dying to write some background on Klaus as a child and dive a little bit deeper into his relationship with Dave. 
> 
> This was originally going to be one long one-shot, but then it started verging on over 15k words, so I decided to break it up into three parts. This first chapter is a ton of backstory and doesn't have any Klaus/Dave but the second two will focus heavily on them.
> 
> This is my first time writing any of these characters, and actually my first time writing something for a fandom other than Attack On Titan in probably 3 years or so, but man, do I love writing for Klaus. Hopefully it translates well. 
> 
> Also, the title of this fic is taking from The 1975's song, "It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)" mostly because it sounds like a sweet love song but is actually about their vocalist's struggle with addiction, which I mean... It fits Klaus perfectly. Go listen to it [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzfKn-hlZwo) if you haven't already.

The first time Klaus gets drunk, he’s only thirteen years old.

It’s a stormy Wednesday night, and on most weeknights, the children (at least, the six of them _with_ powers) are required to do mandatory fitness training for at least an hour, if not more, but this Wednesday night is different. Their father has fallen ill - their mother insists that it’s just a cold and he’ll be back on his feet in no time - and without him watching them like a hawk, and trapped in the confines of his bedroom, they’re free to actually _enjoy_ themselves for once. Grace and Pogo conveniently forget about training as well, so after supper, for the first time in a _very_ long time, the kids have the house to themselves, and naturally, they’re up to no good.

Allison suggests board games or watching a movie, to which Vanya and Luther immediately agree, but Diego, bless his soul, decides that her ideas are too boring for the only night for a very long time that they’ll have to themselves. Instead, he proclaims that he’ll find something better to keep them busy, and before anyone can stop him, he’s marching up to their father’s study, jimmying open the lock, and throwing open the french doors.

Getting into the liquor cabinet is Diego’s idea, but nobody other than Luther and Vanya contest it, and with the vote five to two, they agree on stealing an expensive bottle of whiskey and an already half-drank bottle of vodka before retreating to the one place that they know nobody will look for them - Klaus’ bedroom. With a pit stop in the kitchen to grab some chasers (Diego insists that they’ll need them, although he can’t for the life of him decide what would go good with vodka _or_ whiskey) they’re out of the liquor cabinet and corralled in Kalus’ room in a matter of minutes. Klaus even jokes that it feels like a mission, to which Number Five snorts out a laugh. The others don’t find it quite as funny.

However, once all seven of them are seated in Klaus’ room - Klaus pushed back on his bed, cross-legged, Ben to his right, Allison to his left with a pillow in her lap, Diego perched on the foot and Luther, Five and Vanya on the floor - none of them really know where to start. Despite being teeangers, none of them have ever really had any _real_ teenage experiences, and disobeying their father’s rules so deliberately, not to mention _drinking_ isn’t something they’ve done before.

“So…” Diego mutters, suddenly seemingly nervous and unsure, “Who wants to go first? Should we make a game out of it or something, or…”

“Well, it was _your_ idea,” Luther bites, an air of hostility to his voice. He didn’t want to go along with the plan at all, but he wasn’t about to let his siblings do this without him, and reluctantly joined along.

“I mean I g-guess,” Diego stammers. “I don’t know… Maybe -”

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake,” Klaus bites, sitting up, “I’ll go first, then. Give me the bottle.”

“Uh -” Diego lifts both, glancing in Klaus’ direction, “Which one?”

“Whiskey, I don’t know, whatever,” Klaus replies quickly, reaching forward with grabby hands, “C’mon.”

And so, without another word, Diego hands the expensive looking bottle of whiskey over. Klaus quickly twists the top off, and with a shrug, he lifts the glass to his lips and takes a big, long swig.

He knew from movies that straight liquor isn’t the most pleasant tasting thing, but nothing could prepare Klaus for the burning sensation as he swallows two large gulps of the amber liquid. The smell is strong, but the taste is even stronger, leaving his throat and lungs on fire in its wake. Upon swallowing, he sputters in surprise, coughing, but manages to keep the alcohol down. Diego, picking up on his discomfort right away, tosses a can of Pepsi in his direction and Klaus is quick to crack it open, uncaring when it fizzes over and gets all over his sheets in favor of chasing the harsh liquid down.

Finally, as soon as he regains his composure, Klaus glances up, offering his siblings a sly smile and teases, “Alright, who’s next?”

Number Five, a smirk spread across his lips reaches out before anyone else can speak. “Give me the vodka,” he demands, and Diego is quick to hand it over. He’s a bit more composed than Klaus upon his first swig, but even Klaus can catch the slight grimace on his face as it goes down, and Five opts for the carton of orange juice to wash it down.

Shortly after Five, Allison opts in, then Diego, then Ben and Vanya, and finally, regretfully, Luther takes a sip of the whiskey, cringing as soon as it touches his lips. “This is disgusting,” he mutters in response.

“Aww come on _Number One_ ,” Klaus teases, “Don’t be such a sourpuss. We’re having _fun_.”

“I don’t see what’s so fun about this,” Luther counters, “When dad finds out, he’s going to be livid.”

“Not unless Allison can rumor him into thinking he drank it all himself…” Five interjects, shooting a look in his sister’s direction.

The wild grin that finds its way onto Allison’s face in response is enough to even make Klaus’ eyes widen a bit. “I think we can arrange that,” she agrees.

“Great!” Five exclaims, “Then there’s nothing to worry about. Come on, Luther, loosen up a bit.”

“We’re sitting in a circle _drinking_ ,” Luther continues to argue, even as he watches Klaus reach for the bottle of whiskey again. “What’s so fun about this?”

“Well, we could make a game out of it,” Vanya finally pipes up, echoing Diego's suggestion from a few minutes ago. Her voice is small, but all six of her siblings immediately glance in her direction.

Klaus takes another swig of whiskey, and around a slight cringe, he asks, “Yeah, what’cha have in mind?”

“Well, I don’t - I’m not sure, I -” Vanya stammers, suddenly nervous under the weight of their gaze. It isn’t very often that she’s included in group activities like this, but Allison had insisted on bringing her along, because _stealing your parents’ alcohol is a thing all normal teenages do, and Vanya is a normal teenager, after all._

So of course, Allison comes to her rescue. “Never have I ever!” she suggests excitedly, “We could play never have I ever.” And when all of her siblings give her a curious glance in response, she explains, “I read about it… We each take turns saying something we’ve never done, and if you’ve done it, you have to take a drink.”

“Oh _I like this_ ,” Klaus grins, clapping his hands together, “We’re gonna need some cups. This’ll be good.”

So that’s how they end up sitting in a circle about five minutes later, each holding glasses filled with some form of a shitty mixed drink. Most of them had poured sparingly, about one third alcohol, two thirds mixer, but Klaus, Five and Diego in particular each were a bit generous with their own drinks, deciding if they were drinking, they might as well get the most out of it.

And five minutes later, Allison is the first to start the game with something simple. “Never have I ever had a crush on a girl.”

It’s innocent enough, and almost _plain_ enough to trick the Hargreeves kids into believing that they’re just normal kids for a night, sneaking into their dad’s liquor cabinet and playing some drinking games. You know, normal teenager stuff. It’s enough to make them forget about everything else for a while.

“Oh _come on_ ,” Diego groans, “That’s bullshit.” He, Luther, Ben, and Klaus take a drink.

None of them notice when Vanya sneaks a small sip as well.

“Hey, I never said it had to be fair,” Allison teases with a grin. She then turns to Five, eyebrows raised and asks, “What, you’re telling me you’ve never had a crush on someone?”

Five rolls his eyes, “Sorry I’m trying to do my damn job and not over here fawning over my _fans_.”

Allison laughs, “You’re no fun. Alright, Luther, your turn.”

“Uh…” Luther glances around the group, attempting to come up with something before settling on, “Never have I ever snuck out of the Academy.”

Literally everyone except for Vanya drinks, and Luther’s eyes go wide. “Are you _kidding_ me?” he asks incredulously, “ _All_ of you?”

“Yeah bro, live a little,” Diego says with a laugh, “You and Vanya need to get out more.”

Luther rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Five, it’s your turn.”

“Never have I ever run a full mile,” Five states, calm, cool and collected, a sly smile spread across his face.

“ _What?_ ” Ben asks, his eyes wide, “What do you mean? You’re always out there running with us when dad makes us.”

“Sure I am,” Five shrugs, “I just never run the _full_ mile.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Diego interjects.

“It means he _cheats_ ,” Allison infers. She glances at Five, “You _do_ , don’t you?”

He laughs. “Hang back at the start and catch up when you guys are about halfway through. Dad never notices because he doesn’t actually _watch_ us.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Diego repeats as all of them, even Vanya, take a drink.

“Vanya?” Allison finally says, after they’re all done bitching about Five cheating the system, “It’s your turn.”

Vanya, for a moment, is quiet, staring thoughtfully down at her orange juice/vodka mix. When she does speak, though, her voice is a bit louder than normal. “Never have I ever had powers.”

And _fuck_ , Klaus can’t keep it together. He barks out a loud laugh at that, rocking back with the force of it, even spilling a little bit of his drink on himself. “Oh _shit_ ,” he says around a giggle, “That’s _good_ . _That’s_ how we’re playing this?”

Vanya, in response, smiles - a _real_ , genuine smile - and says, “I think you all need to drink.”

And _this_ , sitting in this little circle, sharing stolen bottles of liquor and playing stupid drinking games, this is what siblings are _supposed_ to do, Klaus decides. This is the most sane he has felt in months, hell, _years_ even. And when he watches his siblings all take a drink, laughing around their cups and Vanya’s sly dig, for once, he feels eternally grateful for this family. Their father and missions and powers be damned, he loves the six kids sitting in the bedroom with him, and it’s enough to help him forget about everything else for a while.

Finally, once they all stop giggling and drinking, it’s Diego’s turn, and with a smirk in Allison’s direction, he confidently says, “Never have I ever had a crush on a _boy_.”

Allison rolls her eyes, “ _Really_?”

“Really,” Diego retorts, “Take a drink, sis.”

So Allison offers to cheers Vanya from across the circle before they both take a drink, and Klaus, with a shrug, takes a long swig from his glass along with them.

Both girls - along with his brothers - freeze, glancing in Klaus’ direction. They all saw him take a drink, there’s no doubting that, but nobody speaks, unsure of what to say.

So Klaus simply laughs. “Seriously? What did you expect?”

He doesn’t mention the way that his heart begins to race with their eyes on him, because he had just _assumed_ that they knew. Sure, girls are pretty, but as long as he can remember, Klaus has always been attracted to boys as well. Did they really not know? He was sure he made it obvious.

But thankfully, he doesn’t need to hold his breath for long before Diego chuckles and says, “Yeah, we all should’ve seen that coming.”

The rest of the group agrees simultaneously, and to Klaus’ delight, not one of them looks disappointed.

“Great, now that we’ve got that out of the way, Benny, it’s your turn,” he nudges sweet lil’ Number Six at his side, and Ben simply shrugs.

“I don’t know…”

“Aww _come on_ , you’ve gotta come up with _something_ ,” Klaus presses, “You can single out Luther if you like, he looks like he could use a drink.”

“Hey!” Luther interjects, but Klaus holds up a finger.

“Don’t interrupt, dear brother. It’s Ben’s turn.”

So after a few moments of silence, Ben says, “Never have I ever kissed someone.”

And Klaus pretends not to notice the way that Allison and Luther share a quick glance before they _both_ drink. Diego, Vanya and Five remain still, and Klaus chuckles, muttering, “Prudes,” around his glass before taking another sip.

By the time it’s his turn to go, Klaus has downed nearly a third of his glass already, and that, coupled with a few of sips of whiskey before they started playing, has his hands feeling all tingly and his body feeling a bit more relaxed. And _shit_ , he actually _really_ likes how it feels.

“Never have I ever…” Klaus leans back, studying his brothers and sisters, trying to come up with something good, something that’ll get each and every one of them. And when he finally comes to a decision, he says with a wild grin, “Used my powers to complete a mission.”

The room goes quiet. Even Vanya looks at him with wide eyes.

“ _What_?” Diego asks incredulously, “But you - you’re there every mission, you -”

“ _Don’t use my powers on missions_ ,” Klaus interrupts, “What am I supposed to do, talk to ghosts while you guys kick all the bad guys’ asses?”

“But surely they help?” Ben asks, glancing up at him.

“I mean sure, sometimes,” Klaus shrugs, “But I’ve never _actively_ used my powers to complete a mission. Now drink up.”

Despite their frustrations, all of his siblings (aside from Vanya) begrudgingly take a drink while Klaus grins, victorious.

“Round two?”

Another round and a half down, with each turn becoming more about personal digs at one another rather than trying to get the group as a whole to drink, Klaus is _certainly_ feeling the whiskey. He’s not sure when exactly it hits him, but suddenly, his shoulders feel a bit lighter, things seem to slow down a bit, and he can’t keep the lazy smile off of his face. It feels nice, once you get past the burn of the alcohol, the fuzziness of being drunk. It helps him loosen up, forget about everything for a while. It helps -

 _Holy shit_.

“ _Guys,_ ” Klaus gasps, his voice coming out lazy and slurred, “Hey, _hey_ , guys. I don’t see any ghosts right now.”

Number Five rolls his eyes in response. “That’s great, Klaus.”

“ _No_ , you don’t understand,” Klaus insists, “There’s always a few, ya’know, _lurking_ around this place, but I don’t see _any_.”

“Maybe none of them want anything to do with a bunch of drunk kids,” Diego teases.

“No, they’re _gone_ ,” Klaus insits, exasperated. “I think it’s _this_ -”

He shakes his glass a little bit before taking another long swig.

And he’s not wrong.

Come to find out, intoxication numbs it. It numbs _everything._ Not only does it weaken Klaus’ powers, making the ghosts go away for a little bit, but it also helps Klaus _forget_ everything for a little while. Here, sitting cross-legged on his bed with all six of his siblings, playing drinking games and getting utterly wasted for the first time on his father’s whiskey, Klaus finally feels like a normal kid, even if only for a little bit. He forgets about his father and the disappointed look he always gives him, the mausoleum, getting tossed into dangerous situations that would make most _adults_ shit themselves…

It makes _everything_ go away for a while, and if Klaus is being honest, that’s where it all begins, innocently enough, playing games with his siblings.

He never thought it would spiral into what it becomes, but he’s not surprised.

* * *

 

It doesn’t happen overnight, but it’s a gradual thing. And for a while, Klaus sticks to drinking, because it’s easily accessible. It isn’t hard for Klaus to steal some of his dad’s _fuck you_ money when he’s not looking and bribe some older guys to buy him bottles of cheap vodka or tequila or whiskey or _whatever_ on the weekends. And it isn’t hard for him to convince Diego to break into the study occasionally to steal another bottle so he can drink half of it before diluting the rest with water or apple juice or soda.

They get caught, of course, and naturally, Klaus takes the fall. Before their father can take it out on any of his siblings, Klaus is hanging on his shirt, muttering, before he can really think about the consequences, _“it was me, they didn’t have anything to do with it, it was just me.”_

And if there was a tipping point, then that was it. His drinking really only picks up after the second time that his father locks him in the mausoleum, as a form of punishment. The second time is worse than the first, because it _isn’t_ for training and he doesn’t come to check on Klaus. His father drags him into the dark confines of the mausoleum around 8pm, and by the time Grace and Pogo come to his rescue, there’s morning light shining in through the doorway behind them, and Klaus can’t even determine if it’s real or not. He hasn't slept all night. 

The next night, Klaus sneaks out again, paying a stranger outside of the liquor store in stolen cash for “the strongest shit you can get me” before using nearly an entire bottle of Everclear to wash it all away.

But then, when Klaus sneaks out one night, he runs into some fans, and upon realizing who he is (and what he was in search of, on his way to the seedy liquor store down the street) they demand to show him a good night. Between bottles of cheap beer and shitty shooters, one of the kids, who has to be at least two or three years older than him, offers him a joint, and if Klaus thought that alcohol was great, then weed is even better. Think loss of inhibitions without the nasty side effects. No hangover the next morning, no puking if you drink too much. Just… _bliss._

 _Then_ , Five goes missing, and it becomes even easier to sneak out and cause trouble. With Five around, there was always _someone_ who knew where he was and what he was up to. Number Five wasn’t stupid. With his room directly next to Klaus’, he could hear the floorboards creak or the scrape of the window when Klaus snuck out. Many times, he’d materialize in front of him as he strolled down a dark alleyway, demanding to know where he was going, what he was doing. And Klaus would always insist -

_“Nowhere, brother, just clearing my head.”_

_“You and I both know how impossible that is,” Number Five argued once, as he trailed along next to Klaus, “What are you really doing?”_

_“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Klaus had insisted._

_Five had grabbed his wrist at that, stopping him midway down the alley. “You know you don’t have to numb yourself like this, right?” he asks, “We’re all going through the same shit as you. You can talk to us. You can talk to me.”_

_Klaus mock gasped, hands coming to slap over his cheeks. “You see dead people too?” he had whispered, sarcastic._

_“You know what I mean,” Five had hissed, “You don’t have to get fucked up to deal with this.”_

_“I’m just having a good time,” Klaus insisted, a blatant lie, but he continues forward nonetheless, “Thanks for the concern, though!”_

_“You’re an idiot, Klaus!” Five had yelled after him, to which Klaus simply waved in response and shouted -_

_“Thank you!”_

So when Number Five goes missing, there isn’t anyone else that pries quite as hard as him. Vanya pretty much keeps to herself, and although Klaus knows that she’s ever-observant, she never reaches out to him. Luther couldn’t care less. Ever since that night that they broke into the liquor cabinet, he has sworn off drinking and refuses to discuss it. Diego will join Klaus occasionally, but never confronts him when it’s apparent that he thinks he drinks or smokes too much, and Allison gives him these _looks_ sometimes, when she catches him rolling blunts in his bedroom or blowing smoke out the window, like she knows that she should say something, but she never does. Instead, she tries to distract him, asking Klaus if he’d like to try on some of her old clothes before she gets rid of them or offering to paint his nails. Actually, she’s the one who helps him the most, believe it or not.

And _Ben_ , sweet little Ben. He doesn’t pry, because he has his _own_ fucked up shit to deal with. Having a straight up monster living inside of you definitely isn’t easy, so Klaus doesn’t blame him for not saying anything. In fact, on most nights, even when he’s high as a kite, Klaus finds himself in Ben’s bedroom, comforting him as he trembles after a particularly traumatizing mission or distracting him when he tries not to think about the people he maimed… or worse.

 _Then,_ Ben dies.

Ben dies when they’re sixteen, and just when Klaus thought his life couldn’t get any more fucked up, it does.

Ben, of all of them, even Klaus, didn’t deserve this shitty life. His powers, the shit he harbored beneath his skin, it was horrifying. Ugly. Evil. And Reginald (at this point, Klaus refuses to call him _dad_ ) pushes him to use it more than anyone else. He pushes Ben to his breaking point. Ben cries every single time he has to use it, up until the day it tears him apart. Ben didn’t deserve the horrible life he had, nor did he deserve to die, which is what makes everything even more fucked up.

And Klaus, horrified of waking up to see Ben’s ghost the next morning, goes on a bender.

At sixteen, going on seventeen, Klaus wakes up on a strangers couch, two, maybe three days later, head still spinning from the night before, and the night before that, unable to recall the events of the past few days. What had he done? Molly? LSD? He doesn’t remember, but whatever it is, it does the trick for a few days and it leaves him craving more once he sobers up.

Klaus doesn’t come home for four days, and nobody even says a word to him. Allison gives him those worried eyes, Luther that disappointed look, but nobody says _shit_.

He misses Ben’s funeral, and the only person who says anything is Diego, disappointed in passing, to which Klaus just mutters, “It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll see him again soon.”

But he doesn't, because he  _keeps_ numbing himself. 

Then, it’s the pills. Those are fairly easy to come by. He even steals a couple of Vanya’s occasionally. It takes a small handful of those to do the trick, but they usually even him out for a few days. Cocaine does the trick, too. It’s anything he can get his hands on, really. Whatever is cheap, easy to find and affective. Take your pick.

Nearly a year after Ben’s death, his father calls him a disgrace. He stops sending him on missions, and _good_ , Klaus thinks, _I don’t belong there anyway._

“How does it feel?” Klaus shouts down the hallway after him that night, fingers twitching, trembling. His father had walked in on him doing a line, and that had been the final straw, but Klaus’ body is buzzing right now. He feels _alive_ , so he finally says something.

“Huh?!” he yells, “How does it feel, knowing you killed Ben?!”

He doesn’t get a response, but he never expected one from the cold, distant man. He isn’t a _real_ father. He’s a stranger, an abuser who decided to profit off of six children.

“You know, your _son_ _!”_ Klaus continues to scream, following Reginald down the hallway. His voice is frantic, desperate and vicious at this point. He hears a door crack open and meets Diego’s eyes for a brief moment before he continues his verbal assault. “Do you even feel _anything_ , you fucking monster? You’ve already lost two of us, how many more will it take?!”

And then, before he can yell anything else, Klaus feels a pair of strong arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him back. He knows it’s Diego before he even says anything.

“Klaus, stop, it’s not w-worth it,” Diego insists, voice low. The stammer always returns during intense, emotional situations. And _wow_ , that’s just _another_ was that their makeshift dad has fucked them all up.

“He doesn’t give a shit,” Klaus hisses, but he doesn’t fight Diego’s grip. He falls, leaning back against him, his high hitting him in full force now. His body feels numb, tingly. He slurs, “He doesn’t care about any of us.”

“I know,” Diego murmurs. The stranglehold turns into a hug at some point, his chin coming to rest on Klaus’ shoulder. “I know, Klaus.”

* * *

 

At seventeen, going on eighteen Klaus is finally sober again for the first time in a long time, but it’s not of his choosing. He has been out of the house for a few days - he’s gone more often than he’s home nowadays - and unbeknownst to him, his father (along with the help of Luther) went through his room while he was out, finding every single little hidden stash of pills or weed or coke or booze, and threw it all away.

He doesn’t even say anything to Klaus when he stumbles in the door on Tuesday morning at about 9am. He just watches him carefully from the confines of his study while Klaus passes by, like he’s some sort of test subject. It’s how he has _always_ looked at the kids. What else is new?

Klaus doesn’t realize what he’s done until two days later, in the midst of a shitty comedown.

The easiest to find are the pills, and they’re usually what Klaus opts for if he needs something a little stronger than weed - they make him feel less like a piece of shit than the cocaine or molly or mushrooms. However, when he pulls open the top drawer of his dresser and digs around the socks and underwear, all he can find are empty bottles, and _shit_ did he _really_ do that much last time? He certainly doesn’t remember taking all of his pills without re-upping, but who knows. He doesn’t remember a lot of things these days.

Tossing an empty pill bottle aside, Klaus goes for the closet next, fishing around in the pockets in some of his old uniform jackets. Nobody touches them anymore, making it the perfect hiding spot for a couple of blunts or baggies of white powder.

But he comes up empty.

Klaus huffs, resorting to one of his better hiding spots. Luther had punched a hole in his wall when they were kids, and rather than their father finding out, Klaus had just insisted on covering it up with a band poster to keep them both from getting in trouble. Years later, it became the _perfect_ spot to stash some of the heavier shit or bottles of liquor.

Only, when Klaus pulls back the poster, it’s to find that the hole, which has been there since they were twelve years old, has been filled in. And finally, it clicks.

_That son of a bitch._

Luther must have told Reginald where Klaus hid his drugs and booze. Such a fucking daddy’s boy, that one.

Seething (and sweating, and shaking because holy shit, comedowns are a _bitch_ when you’ve been on a week-long bender) Klaus begins frantically tearing apart his room, ripping open stuffed animals and pillows where he has hidden pills and baggies in the past. He crawls under his bed in search of anything that might have fallen under there at some point, but comes up empty.

_Think, think, think, Klaus. You have to have something._

And then, just as Klaus begins throwing clothing across the room, checking any and all pockets for _something_ to take the edge off, his thoughts are cut short.

“What the fuck are you doing to yourself, Klaus?”

The voice is strange. It’s unlike all of the ghosts that come to Klaus at night - they normally sound terrified, begging for his help - but like them, all the same. It sounds distantly familiar, like the voice of someone he used to know. But Klaus shakes that thought from his head, reasoning that he’s probably just heard this spirit before.

Figures, he’s sober for two fucking days, and in the midst of a comedown, ghosts are already seeking him out. Can’t they see he’s _busy?_

Klaus spins on his heel, and then he’s face-to-face with with a stranger. A guy who looks to be about his age, and there’s something familiar about his face, just like his voice. Like a word that’s on the tip of Klaus’ tongue but he just can’t spit it out. Is this how Diego feels?

“Who are you?” Klaus asks, eyes narrowing, because he knows that face, and that jacket, but…

 _No._ It can’t be.

He has been dead for nearly two years now and hasn’t come to him yet. Why would he now? And why would he look so… different?

 _“Wow,”_ the ghost murmurs, “You don’t recognize me? I thought it would take more than a couple of years to forget about your own brother.”

Klaus’ eyes widen in disbelief. Sure it looks like him, but…

_“Ben?”_

He offers Klaus a smile. He kind of looks relieved. “No shit.”

“But you’re… You’re not…” Klaus stammers, trying to find the right words to say. The last time he saw Ben, he was literally ripped in half, torn apart by the monster living inside of him, pushed to the edge by their uncaring, emotionless father.

Klaus had to run outside to vomit upon finding him. He was the first to see the body.

“Ripped to shreds?” Ben offers, cocking his head to the side, “Yeah, it took a while to put myself back together.”

And _shit_. That’s a first. Klaus has never seen a ghost that has been able to change… Let alone -

“And you -”

“Aged?” Ben offers.

“Yeah, I didn’t think ghosts could do that.”

Ben just shrugs. Leave it to his brother to master the afterlife.

And it’s then that it finally hits Klaus. All this time, he has been numbing himself, and how long was Ben hanging around? Just watching… waiting.

Maybe it’s the lack of drugs in his system, or maybe it’s just seeing his dead brother for the first time in two years, but Klaus feels himself start to tear up. His eyes burn, hands tremble.

“I’ve missed you,” he chokes out, embarrassed of how emotional he’s getting, but unable to stop himself.

Ben, in return, sets his lips in a thin line. “Yeah, you too.”

Klaus swallows. “Have you -”

“Yeah, I’ve been here the whole time,” Ben answers, seemingly aware of what Klaus is about to ask before he can get the words out. He and Ben have _always_ been like this, ever since they were little kids. They were always the closest. “I couldn’t just leave you guys.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Klaus mutters. Without thinking, he reaches out to touch Ben, to hold him for the first time in years, but his hand goes right through him. He should have known better. Maybe he’s still a little fucked up. Who knows.

He shouldn’t be surprised when none of his siblings believe him when he tells them that he can see Ben. They’ve all asked him to conjure their brother countless times since his death, and Klaus has _tried_ \- _fuck_ , has he tried - but was never able to do so. At first, it was because he didn’t _want_ to. He couldn’t bear to see Ben like that again - all torn up and bloody - but then, as time went on, he assumed he was probably too fucking high to make anything happen.

Honestly, he hasn’t been able to purposely conjure a spirit _since_ Ben died.

So no, he’s not surprised when nobody believes him, even has he shouts, _“He’s right here!”_ at Allison, Diego and Luther in the kitchen, while Grace makes them breakfast. They all just chalk it up to Klaus being Klaus - _“get sober man,”_ Diego tells him, clapping a hand over his shoulder - and Ben hangs his head at his side, defeated.

In reality, it’s the longest that Klaus has been sober since he was fifteen.

And he _stays_ sober for just a little over a week. Although his body _screams_ at him to do something about it, and although the withdrawal is rough, it’s worth it, because he can see Ben. He can talk to Ben. He doesn’t want to give that up just yet.

However, the longer he stays sober, the more ghosts he begins to see, and the more ghosts that he sees, the harder it becomes to stay clean. He wants to stay strong, even if only for Ben, but he _can’t_ . Not when the spirits come to him at night, screaming his name and begging him for help. Ben urges him to stay strong, but he _can’t_.

Klaus has never been the strong one. Ben should know that.

One night, nearly two weeks after Klaus first sees Ben, he finds himself rummaging through some of his father’s old stuff in the basement, little trinkets and family heirlooms that he won’t notice if they go missing until it’s too late. Klaus is looking for anything that looks valuable enough to pawn for a few bucks to get a quick, cheap high, when Luther interrupts him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice stern and commanding from the doorway.

Klaus flinches at the sound of it. He’d been hoping that none of his siblings would catch him. Easier to play it off if they don’t know how desperate he is for a good high. He’s quick to compose himself, though.

“None of your beeswax,” Klaus singsongs back at Luther without turning to look at him.

“You’re going to go buy drugs,” Luther infers. It’s not a question.

 _“Woah,_ you’re psychic?” Klaus asks incredulously, glancing up at Luther at last. He raises his eyebrows. “And here all this time I thought your power was super strength.”

“Klaus -”

“Tell me, what does my future look like?” Klaus continues to tease. As he rummages through a few drawers, he finds a few fancy looking coins and pockets them. Maybe they’ll be worth something.

Luther sighs, “Klaus…”

Klaus mock gasps, clasping his hands together. “Is there love in my future? Is he handsome? Tell me _everything_ , dear brother.”

_“Klaus.”_

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Klaus calls. He decides that he has enough trinkets for now, especially with Luther looming over him, so he moves to leave the room.

But as Klaus moves, Luther steps in front of him, stopping him from stepping out the door. “If you’re going out to get high, don’t bother coming back at all.”

Klaus finally breaks character in front of Luther, as it seems that teasing is getting him nowhere. That, and the words that leave Luther’s mouth have him freezing. When he glares up at Luther, it’s with a hard face. “You don’t mean that,” he hisses.

But Luther doesn’t cave. “I do,” he replies, voice stern.

In return, Klaus lets out a low whistle, taking a step back to look Luther up and down. He straightens himself up as if it’ll make the words hurt less.

It doesn’t.

“Wow, Luther,” he mutters, “You sure do sound a lot like _dad_.”

It seems that those words at least hit Luther in _some_ way. Klaus catches his mask slipping, for just a moment. He can see the pain in his brother’s eyes, an agony that he hides well, being Number One and all.

“I’m saying it because I’m worried about you, Klaus,” he tries, voice softening a bit.

Klaus snorts out a humorless laugh.

“Great way to show your concern,” Klaus bites. This time, when he attempts to shove by, Luther lets him. And over his shoulder, as he strolls down the hallways, Klaus calls, “Don’t worry _Number One_ , I’ll be fine!”

Klaus’ hands tremble as he packs a bag.

For years, he has dreamt of leaving the Academy. Of disappearing in the night, never to return, just live Five did all those years ago. He doesn’t belong here, never has, and he has fantasized about leaving ever since their first mission, the first time he saw a ghost, the first time Reginald locked him in the mausoleum.

But now, as Klaus haphazardly throws clothes and necessities into a duffle bag, he feels _terrified_.

Sure, there have been a few stints where he hasn’t come home for a few days, maybe a week, but he always had a warm bed and a room to return to. If what Luther says is true, if it wasn’t just an empty threat to get him to stay, then Klaus will finally be free of the Academy and dad and all of the bullshit, but he’ll also be on the streets.

It’s a risk he’s willing to take, but it’s a risk nonetheless.

As he packs, mind racing, Ben sits on the foot of his bed.

“You don’t have to do this, Klaus,” he insists, voice gentle.

“The fuck I don’t,” Klaus bites in response, “You don’t get it. You’ve never seen the shit I see. You’ve never had to deal with dead people haunting you every hour of every day.”

“That’s because I _am_ dead!” Ben shouts.

And _that_ , that causes Klaus to finally stop, even if just for a moment. “Well, I’m not,” he says after a beat, “And I’d rather not deal with this if I don’t have to. I’m done.”

“You don’t have to deal with it _this_ way, though,” Ben insists, “You just need -”

“I just need _what_?” Klaus argues, “What do I need? It’s not like therapy can help. And last I checked, there aren’t any support groups for people like me.”

Ben glances to the bedroom door, then back to Klaus. “Your family,” he offers.

Klaus snorts. “Sure, because they’ve been a big help so far. They don’t give a _shit._ ”

“They love you, Klaus.”

“Yeah, well they have a funny way of showing it,” Klaus mutters under his breath. For a moment, that shuts Ben up, too, so he resumes packing, tossing his favorite jacket that he stole from Allison last year into the bag, followed by a nice pair of boots. Then, Klaus fixes his gaze on a specific spot on his wall.

There, hanging above his dresser, is a framed copy of the first edition of the Umbrella Academy comic. Their father wasn’t big on pop culture or letting the kids read too many comics or watch too many movies, but _that_ was something that he allowed in the house. Each of them had received their own unique copy of the comic - it was priceless.

Klaus only regards it for a moment before he pulls it off the wall and shoves it unceremoniously into the bag as well.

“You’re going to kill yourself if you keep doing this,” Ben cautions, a last ditch effort to stop Klaus from leaving.

But it doesn’t deter him. In response, as he finally zips up the bag, Klaus mutters, “Good, then maybe they’ll all finally leave me alone.”

* * *

 

Ben _never_ leaves him alone, though.

The next night, as Klaus pounds on the front door, then the back door, of the Academy, begging for someone to let him in, Ben is there, hands in his pockets, head bowed.

And for the next few weeks, when Klaus struggles to find a decent place to sleep each night, Ben is there.

When he overdoses for the first time and comes-to in the back of an ambulance, trembling and gasping for air, Ben is there, sitting next to wide-eyed paramedics. When Klaus finds a decent looking guy to sleep with for a few days, just for a warm bed and free meals, Ben is still there.

When Klaus finally checks himself into rehab for the first time, Ben is there, cheering him on. And he’s there as Klaus buys some pills only two days later, downing three in one go.

“Why don’t you just stay with the others?” Klaus asks Ben one night as they sit together in a dingy diner. Klaus, high as fuck, had suggested waffles at 3am, not like Ben could eat them anyway. “They’re probably less depressing to watch than this shit.”

“They don’t need me,” Ben counters, as if it was an easy choice.

Klaus huffs in response, “Never said I did.”

“You didn’t need to say it,” Ben insists.

And _fuck_ , does he need Ben. He needs ben when he’s feeling scared and lonely, his first time in rehab, clean-ish for the first time in years and horrified of what’ll slip through the cracks as he sobers up. He needs Ben to talk him out of some shady drug deals, and to give him a pep-talk during his first court hearing, during a thirty-day stint in jail… And he needs Ben to talk him down when nobody else will, when the coke he just did was _definitely_ cut with something else and he definitely did a little too much and his heart is beating out of his chest and _fuck_ , is this going to be what finally kills him?

When their father dies, Klaus needs Ben there, whether he’ll admit it or not. And when Number Five returns, appearing out of thin air looking exactly the same as he did seventeen years ago, he needs Ben to assure him that he’s not just seeing things.

And when Klaus is kidnapped and tortured by two maniacs looking for his brother, Ben is there. In fact, he helps Klaus more than he knows.

But then, Klaus clicks open that briefcase, sitting on a dirty city bus in nothing but a bloody towel and leather jacket, and suddenly, Ben isn’t there anymore. He’s there up until that moment he opens the briefcase and is transported to 1968.

And then, there’s Dave.   



	2. All I Do Is Sit And Think About You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, man. I normally don't get around to updating fics this quickly, but this all word vomited out of me pretty quickly. It was so much fun doing a little world building between Dave and Klaus since we get so little of them together in the show. (Hopefully there's more of that next season??)
> 
> You'll also notice warnings and rating of this have changed since last time because I got a little carried away with this. Sorry not sorry.

Dave makes Klaus want to be better. And isn’t that what love is?

Klaus isn’t sure, because if he’s being honest, he’s never actually  _ been _ in love, but he’s pretty sure he heard that in a movie, or read it somewhere once. Or maybe it’s something Ben told him one night, when Klaus had the needle poised over his arm, hands trembling because he’d never done anything that required  _ needles _ before, but it was cheap and accessible and promised to get him high.

_ “I’m sorry Ben,” he had muttered, when his brother begged him not to do it, “I love you, but I need this.” _

_ “If you loved me, you’d get better,” Ben had hissed. _

_ Klaus had ignored him.  _

But now,  now maybe, he understands what his brother meant. It’s something about not just saying those three small words, but showing it. Maybe, it’s about how when you find that right person, they make  _ you _ want to be a better person. 

But he’s getting ahead of himself. 

Before he falls in love with Dave, he becomes his friend. Klaus opens that godforsaken briefcase and it transports him to 1968, in the midst of the Vietnam war, and he’s not sure what stops him from opening it again, just to get the hell out of there. Maybe it was because everything was happening all too fast, someone was shoving clothes in his face and yelling at him to get dressed,  _ soldier _ , before he was shoved out of the tent and into imminent danger. Maybe it was because anything, even this, seemed better than getting tortured in a dingy hotel room for hours by two masked idiots.  

Or maybe, it’s those kind eyes that met his own, once in the dark tent and again on the bus, when Dave first introduces himself. If Klaus is being honest, starts falling for him on that very first day, he just doesn’t know it yet. 

So he stays. He stays in Vietnam both for his blossoming crush on the kind soldier who lends him a hand on his first day, and he stays because  _ what could be worse than his real life back home?  _

(That and he still doesn’t quite understand how the briefcase works.)

War is fucking horrifying (and that’s kind of an understatement) but Klaus reasons that he has been through worse, and apparently, he’s pretty hard to kill, so what’s the worst that could happen? After all, it’s probably better than trying to stop the apocalypse when he can’t even stay sober long enough to even control his powers. Hell, his own family would probably be better off without him. They probably won’t even notice that he’s gone. 

After a few days, Klaus begins to wonder if Ben has noticed. He realizes, after about two days in Vietnam, that he hasn’t seen Ben since that moment in the hotel room, when he escaped through the vent and didn’t look back. In quiet moments, when he’s not being shot at or screamed at, Klaus wonders if the whole  _ time travel _ bit has anything to do with it. Could it be that Ben hasn’t necessarily been born yet in 1968, therefore he can’t be a ghost in this timeline? Are ghosts linear? 

The thought alone makes his head hurt. 

It certainly isn’t because Klaus’ powers aren’t working, because they most  _ definitely  _ are. On his second day in Vietnam, he sees the bloody, gruesome ghost of a small child standing on the side of the road as the bus passes by. The kid is literally holding his guts in his hands, as if someone scooped them out of him with a serving spoon, and Klaus just  _ knows  _ that he isn’t alive. He doesn’t have to ask anyone else if they see it too. 

Thankfully, though, he still has a few pills stashed in the pocket of the leather jacket that he arrived in, and he downs those pretty quickly. Anything to curb the horrified looking ghost children and (likely) thousands of dead soldiers for a while. 

The battlefield probably isn’t that great of a place for someone who can see dead people, and Klaus dreads the day that he actually has to pull the trigger on the military issued rifle that had been shoved in his face on that first day. He hasn’t fired it yet, and he prays that he doesn’t have to. The last thing that he wants is to be followed around by the ghost of someone that he fucking  _ killed _ . Klaus has always been somewhat of a pacifist and this isn’t necessarily his  _ scene _ , but, he thinks, lying awake on his third night (or is it fourth, he’s not sure, all the days are starting to blend together) in Vietnam,  _ has he ever really belonged anywhere? _

He didn’t really belong in the Academy. His powers were practically useless when it came to missions, unless the mission included talking to dead people for clues, but that was very few and far between. And once he started dulling his senses and numbing his powers with drugs and alcohol, he was practically useless out on the field. 

And Klaus most certainly didn’t belong in rehab. He learned that on his fourth stint of the program, when the receptionist begged him to stay clean and he went and got fucked up not twenty minutes later. 

Hell, he doesn’t even belong _ here _ , but he’s up for trying something new. 

Thankfully, booze is relatively easy to come by. So are some welcome distractions.

Like Dave. 

Dave, as Klaus learns, is absolutely his fucking type, and that’s the problem. If it were 2019 and Klaus were in one of his favorite bars or clubs downtown, he’d have no problem confidently approaching Dave and offering to buy him a drink, to show him a good time,  _ anything _ … But it’s not 2019. It’s 1968 and the conversation around gay rights isn’t even a  _ thing  _ yet, and they’re in a fucking warzone, and  _ Klaus knows better _ , but it complicates things.

It complicates things, because Dave is just his type. He’s caring and funny and intelligent and strong and not at all the type of man who should be part of this ugly fucking war if Klaus has anything to say about it. 

Less than a week into Klaus’ time in Vietnam, Dave offers him friendship and guidance when nobody else does. He notices that Klaus has yet to actually  _ use _ his rifle, that he jumps at nearly every loud noise and seems to zone out whenever they’re in transport and he approaches him, all friendly smile and kind eyes and says, “It’s fucking wild, isn’t it?” 

He never patronizes Klaus, never questions why he doesn’t seem to be trained as well as the rest of them, never hassles Klaus about his drinking and doesn’t mention Klaus’ jumpy, agitated mannerisms when he sobers up. He’s just…  _ Dave. _

He always offers Klaus a smile or conversation or a helping hand or  _ anything _ really, and if Klaus didn’t know better…

_ No _ , there’s no way that Dave sees him like that. And even if he did, it would never work. This isn’t 2019 and Klaus really should be getting back to his own time.

_ So why doesn’t he? _

He really does consider it. Time and time again he does, especially when they’re in the thick of it, being shot at or screamed at, especially when he’s sober for a day or two at a time and starts seeing the ghosts of soldiers he never met, of men he  _ just _ met…

But then, Dave is sitting down next to him, just around sunset one day, after they pull into some small, shitty town where all of the citizens are horrified to walk out their front door. Without a word, Dave takes a seat next to Klaus and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering him one before he even has to ask. Then, Dave is there to teach him how to use his weapon when he realizes that Klaus truly has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, muttering a soft, “Wow, they must be pretty desperate if they sent you here like this…”

To which Klaus just mumbles, “Yeah, well. I signed up for it. Nothing really keeping me back home so…”

And he pretends not to catch the sad look in Dave’s eye or the way he parts his lips as if he wants to ask Klaus about it. 

Klaus realizes that there is a very real possibility that he might just die here in 1968, and he  _ knows _ he should leave and get back to his family, but for once - for the first time in a  _ very _ long time - he feels like he’s  _ part _ of something here. Dave and the rest of the men in his squad, welcome him with open arms, and they don’t ask any prying questions, they don’t judge him when he gets too fucked up when they have an off day or two, because they’re  _ all _  messed up in some way, they've all got their own shit to deal with, so they just get it. There’s no judgement, just brotherhood, camaraderie… support. 

It’s the first time he has felt a sense of belonging in years, so he doesn’t leave. Not after a few days, or a few weeks, or even over a month. Despite the dread that hangs over him, reminding him that  _ he doesn’t belong here _ , that he could die at any given moment and his family probably wouldn’t even notice or care, Klaus stays. He stays even though he knows that it’s pointless, that it’s not like he’ll make a difference in this fucking war. And he stays, even though he knows that his blossoming crush on the nice soldier that offered a helping hand when nobody else would is going to go nowhere. 

But then, there’s that night at the disco. 

They have a few nights of leave, a few nights to relax and (attempt to) forget about how fucked up their lives are for a few days, and Klaus does what he  _ always _ does. He finds the closest, most accessible bar to get completely obliterated at, and he buys himself a drink. 

What he doesn’t expect is for Dave to join him.

A beer and a shot of whiskey in, Klaus is enjoying some solitude at the bar while others dance around him, music pumping through the building, and he almost doesn’t notice when someone appears next to him.  _ Almost _ . But then he glances up, and there’s Dave, dressed down in a plaid button-up shirt and looking just as beautiful as ever, sparing Klaus a warm smile when their eyes meet. 

“Somehow I knew you’d be here,” Dave says, a teasing tone to his voice. 

Klaus raises his eyebrows in response. “Yeah? What’cha trying to say?”

“Well I -” Dave starts, then stops. It seems that Klaus’ question catches him off guard, and Klaus knows that if it were any of his siblings, they’d already be giving him shit about his drinking, but Dave  _ doesn’t _ . Instead, he just says, “You looked like you could use a drink.”

Klaus huffs out a laugh, raising his glass, “Yeah, well…”

“Looks like I have some catching up to do,” Dave teases in return, a smile pulling at his lips.

And  _ fuck _ , Klaus actually has to look away at that because if he’s not careful, he’ll find himself staring at the other man, and the last thing he wants to do is explain _ that _ away. So insead, he averts his gaze and chooses to taunt back, “If you can keep up.” 

As it turns out, Dave  _ can _ keep up. 

Throughout the night, despite the fact that quite a few men from their squad come in and out of the bar for a few drinks or a dance with a stranger, Dave doesn’t stray far from Klaus. And each time Klaus finishes a drink, Dave is offering him another. 

Normally, this is where Klaus would ask a handsome stranger if he had something a bit stronger, because  _ fuck _ , he can’t even remember the last time he had sex sober, if ever, but this is  _ Dave _ and they’re in Vietnam, they’re not having sex, and for some reason, Klaus isn’t craving coke or molly or acid. 

He just craves  _ Dave _ .

He shakes that thought from his head, but it becomes harder and harder to ignore as the night goes on. Like the ghosts that’ll creep up on him when he hasn’t had anything to drink, smoke, swallow or snort in a few days, the thoughts will reemerge when Klaus expects them the least. He’ll find his eyes trained on Dave’s lips as they take another shot together, or gaze lingering on his hands when he passes Klaus another gin and tonic an hour later. And those lingering thoughts become harder and harder to shake away when Dave is dancing next to him, even if it’s with some beautiful woman, even if he only spares Klaus a quick glance and a shrug before she drags him off onto the dance floor. 

A couple of drinks quickly turn into several, and soon enough, Klaus finally feels relaxed enough to let loose a little, carefree enough to grab Dave’s hand at one point to lead him out onto the dancefloor, uncaring when his drink spills just a little when he sways his hips to the music. And with the alcohol ridding him of his inhibitions, Klaus feels confident enough to dance alongside Dave, war and the 60’s and Vietnam be damned. 

And the thing is, Dave doesn’t stop him. 

Before Klaus knows it, they’re standing near the back of the bar in a secluded little corner, chain smoking and chatting about anything and everything, talking about their plans once they get home and reminiscing on stories from back in the states. Klaus finds himself sharing a bit about his siblings - some of the more  _ normal _ stories from their childhood and teen years - and listens intently when Dave slurs about some of his friends back home, about how he can’t wait to get back to the states if for nothing else than just having a decent slice of pizza. 

“It’s the little things, ya’ know?” Dave says around a laugh, lifting his glass to his lips to take a drink. 

Klaus simply hums in response, watching Dave with a faraway look in his eyes. Only now, with quite a few drinks in his system, Klaus doesn’t think to avert his eyes, and eventually, Dave notices. 

“What is it?” Dave asks, his voice soft, curious, and Klaus realizes that he has been staring. 

_ Never have I ever been in love _ , he thinks to himself.

But Klaus clears his throat, shaking his head. “Nothing. It’s dumb.”

Dave offers him a gentle smile. “I’m sure it isn’t,” he insists, nudging him with his elbow, “Come on, you can tell me.”

And  _ fuck _ , how long has Klaus been here now? A month? Five weeks? It feels like they’ve known each other for ages. And  _ yeah _ , he feels like he  _ can  _ tell Dave anything, but this… Well,  _ this _ complicates things. 

When Klaus doesn’t say anything in response right away, simply averting his eyes, struggling to sort through a drunken mess of thoughts, Dave surprises him by reaching out, placing a tentative hand on his cheek. Fingers come to rest to rest just at Klaus’ hairline, his thumb brushing over his cheek, and for a moment, Klaus closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. 

“Klaus?” Dave’s voice brings him back to earth. Back to this perfect little alternate reality, tucked into the back of a bar somewhere in Vietnam. Back with Dave. 

And  _ fuck it,  _ Klaus reasons. If Dave rejects him, if this goes south, he can always just fuck off back to 2019 and forget that any of this ever happened. 

So he swallows and says, “I was uh… I was thinking about how I really wanted to kiss you right now.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Klaus feels a huge weight lifted off his chest. For a moment, everything seems to stand still. The music, still pumping through the bar, sounds distant, as if miles away now. For a brief moment, they’re the only people in the club and Dave’s eyes on him, his hand on his cheek, are all that matter to Klaus. 

Dave smiles, and it’s this sad, beautiful thing and Klaus waits to get rejected because it’s 1968, not 2019, and kissing other men isn’t something that one just  _ does _ in the middle of a busy bar in a fucking  _ war zone  _ right now, but it’ll be okay, because at least he gave it a shot. At least he told Dave how he felt. He can disappear after this and Dave will just think he went AWOL, will forget about him in a matter of weeks, maybe days. 

But then, Dave surprises Klaus when he leans in slightly and says in a soft voice, “So what’s stopping you?”

And Klaus is pretty sure that his heart fucking stops. He knows the feeling, the sensation when it feels like the floor is giving way beneath him, the pit in his stomach and the lightheaded feeling when he sucks in a shallow gasp for air. He has felt this before, once in a dark alley, another time in the back of an ambulance and for the first time, alone in a hotel room with Ben’s ghost begging him to just  _ take deep breaths, you’re going to be okay _ . 

But this is different. This isn’t an overdose. This isn’t doing so much cocaine that his heart feels like it’s going to burst from his chest.

Well, it  _ does _ feel like it’s going to burst right now, but for a different reason.

So on weak legs, Klaus takes a step forward, impossibly closer to Dave, and then -

Then, they’re kissing, and it’s better than anything Klaus could have hoped for. It’s different than anything he has ever experienced. This isn’t some attractive dude that he just met at the club, pushing him against the wall in the bathroom and kissing him until he forgets his name. It’s not the girl who just fed him acid climbing into his lap on the couch at some stranger’s party and licking into his mouth as if she can catch his high too. It’s not one of those meaningless hookups or mindless fucks for Klaus to let go and forget everything for a while, or earn a warm place to sleep for the night. 

No, Dave kisses him unlike anyone who has ever kissed Klaus before. Dave kisses him with a sense of tenderness that isn’t fair, like he’s something special, something precious. He only takes what Klaus is willing to give, doesn’t press into him aggressively or whisper filthy words into his ear when they part. If Klaus could remember his first kiss, this is what he would have wanted it to be like.

_ Hell, _ it’s 1968, ages before he  _ actually _ had his first kiss, so technically, it is. 

When they part, Dave doesn’t pull his hand away. He keeps it securely in place on Klaus’ cheek, fingers tickling the hair at the back of his neck as he murmurs, “I have to admit… I’ve been dying to do that for a while now.”

And  _ fuck _ , Klaus can’t leave now. Not with the way Dave is looking at him. Not with the knot in his stomach and warmth in his chest that he’s never felt before. 

So he stays. 

First, it’s just for a few more days. Then, a few weeks. Then, before Klaus knows it, he has been in the 60’s for nearly four months, and he and the rest of his squad (at least, those that haven’t been killed yet) are celebrating another few days off. Some rest and relaxation before they’re back in the thick of it. 

A few days for him and Dave to steel away from everyone and everything to pretend that they have all the time in the world together. 

Dave seeks him out the morning of their first day off and glances around, making sure nobody is looking before leaning in, barricading Klaus against a truck with one hand pressed next to his head. “Grab your bag,” he murmurs, a smile pulling at his lips, “I found a room for us tonight.”

Klaus has been sober for three days now, so the words have more of an effect on him than any dirty talk he’s ever heard in his life. Since their night together in the bar a few months ago - since that first kiss - Klaus and Dave haven’t had much time to themselves. There have been little stolen moments when nobody's looking - a brush of hands when it’s dark in the tent or a quick kiss when they can step away for a moment - but nothing like that first night, when Klaus opened up and Dave reacted in the best way possible. 

So the fact that Dave  _ still _ wants him, that his first thought upon having a few days to themselves was that he wanted to spend time with Klaus, is mindblowing. 

The motel is shitty and in a way, reminds Klaus of the dingy little place that he’d been tortured in months ago (or years from now, depending on how you look at it) but he shakes that thought from his head, because as soon as the door closes and locks behind them, Dave is offering him a warm smile, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Klaus’ middle. 

“I’ve been dreaming of holding you like this,” Dave murmurs, dipping down for a kiss and Klaus practically  _ melts  _ against him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. Much like their shared kiss in the bar all those months ago, it leaves Klaus breathless by the time it comes to an end, mind spinning, struggling to catch up, to wrap his head around the fact that Dave actually wants this too. That he managed to get so lucky when he opened that briefcase, the one that he has all but forgotten about. 

When they part, Klaus gazes at Dave with heavy eyes, and with a low voice, he asks, “Yeah? What else have you been thinking about?”

Klaus doesn’t remember his first time, and that’s perfectly okay, because he wouldn’t want some shitty experience with someone who he barely remembers to overshadow  _ this _ . Sure, Klaus doesn’t mind a good, rough fuck every once in a while, and yeah, sometimes he prefers to be held down, slapped and choked and left gasping for more, but Dave somehow manages to pick him apart piece by piece in a way that Klaus has never experienced before. When he takes Klaus’ face in both hands and kisses him, it’s rough, but passionate all the same. Klaus can practically taste the emotion through Dave’s lips, can feel the tenderness in his touch. 

This time, when Dave pulls away, they’re both breathless, Klaus grasping at Dave’s shirt, barely unable to stop himself from just ripping it up and over his head. “Klaus, I want -”

“ _ Yeah _ ,” Klaus breaths, a smile spreading across his face, “I want you too.” 

And Dave laughs, but it’s this breathless, relieved, beautiful thing. He shakes his head, smile lighting up his eyes. “God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he breathes, and then he’s kissing Klaus again, this time a bit more heated, a bit more desperate, and  alright ,  _ this _ Klaus can work with. 

Before long, he’s pulling Dave across the room and to their one queen bed. And shortly after that, he finds himself lying on shitty, itchy sheets, leaning back as Dave crawls over him, Klaus spreading his legs to accommodate. When Klaus sits up after a moment, attempting to pull his own shirt over his head, needy and desperate for more skin-on-skin contact, Dave stops him with a hand on Klaus’ wrist.  

“Please,” Dave murmurs, “Let me.”

Klaus doesn’t have to be told twice. 

It isn’t  _ fucking _ , either. It sounds so cheesy, and Klaus even feels a loser for even  _ thinking _ it, but this isn’t fucking, it’s making love. It’s so sweet, soft and slow, and Dave is so thoughtful and careful and tender, Klaus actually starts to believe that he’s something fragile, that he’ll break if he’s handled the wrong way.

Dave cradles the back of Klaus’ head in his palm as they kiss, near naked bodies pressed together, his elbow supporting his weight on the bed while his free hand trails down Klaus’ chest and stomach. 

“I’ve never...” Dave starts, glancing up at Klaus in a moment of hesitation once they’re both nude, once he’s keeled in between Klaus’ legs again, taking in the sight below him.

“It’s okay,” Klaus murmurs, reaching out for Dave’s hand, guiding him. He’s not surprised that he’s never been with another man before, but he’s more than excited to teach him, to learn like it’s his first time all over again as well. “I’ve got you.”

Before long, Klaus is guiding Dave’s hand between his legs, gasping as he presses a tentative finger inside of him. And  _ fuck _ , for a moment, Klaus longs for 2019 and lube (among other things) but he wouldn’t change this moment for the world. 

He rocks against the touch, his nerve endings on fire, and  _ shit _ , this is better than any high. 

Once he’s ready, Klaus is leaning up on his elbows, gripping Dave’s curls and pulling him down for a passionate heated kiss, murmuring, between smacking lips and soft gasps, “C’mon… I’m ready. Want you.”

When Dave finally presses inside of him, a concentrated crease to his brow, his lips parting at the sensation, Klaus sees stars. He already knows he won’t last long, both because he’s fairly certain that this is the first time he has  _ ever _ had sex sober, and because he can’t handle the way that Dave is looking at him, the sounds that he makes, the way his body moves. So he makes the most of it while he can, arching up into Dave’s thrusts, pulling him impossibly closer, savoring every little movement, every little sound, and committing it all to memory. 

When he comes, it’s with his back arching off the bed, untouched, mouth open in a silent scream, and Dave follows shortly after, his face pressed into the crook of Klaus’ neck, muffling out a deep groan into his skin. 

And when they’re lying in bed later, quiet, peaceful for the first time since Klaus appeared in Vietnam, Klaus resolves that he might never go back home, if this is what he would be leaving behind.  

And when Dave produces a joint from his jacket pocket later that night, lighting it and offering it to Klaus with a sly grin, Klaus  _ almost _ doesn’t take it, because he doesn’t  _ need  _ to get high right now.

_ Almost _ .

* * *

 

When Klaus wakes in the middle of the night with a gasp, heart racing, hands trembling, it takes him a few moments to actually remember where he is. For a moment, he’s a child again, locked in a mausoleum for hours upon hours, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut and willing for it all to be over. For a moment, in the darkness, he’s sixteen again, lost and alone after Ben’s death and wishing that he was dead too, because at least he wouldn’t have to deal with this shit anymore. 

But then, there’s a gentle hand on his clammy back and suddenly, he transported back,  _ back _ to 1968, and he’s in bed with Dave. Sweet _ Dave _ , who just shushes Klaus softly, hand tracing soft patterns into his skin. 

“You good?” Dave asks, and there’s a hint of genuine concern, curiosity to his voice. 

_ Fuck _ , Klaus isn’t used to this. To someone caring this much. 

Klaus sucks in a shuddering breath and exhales it on a sigh. “Yeah,” he mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face as if it’ll rid him from the images behind his eyelids, “Just a bad dream.” 

Dave hums as if he understands, but there’s no way that he can  _ fully  _ understand the way Klaus feels, the shit he has seen. Nobody can and -

“You know, I had nightmares for the first few months, too,” Dave says softly, and  _ oh yeah _ . If anyone can begin to comprehend how Klaus feels right now, it’s Dave. In just the five months or so since Klaus has been here, he has seen death, destruction, gore… For someone who has been seeing fucked up shit like that since they were a kid, it’s pretty easy to get desensitized, but for the first time? Yeah, that’ll fuck with you.

“I know it doesn’t help much right now, but it does get easier,” Dave assures, voice gentle.

Klaus doesn’t have the heart to tell him that these nightmares aren’t from this lifetime, but one that is decades away. He doesn’t even know where to begin, to tell him that his nightmares aren’t from the dead bodies here in Vietnam, but of the ones that came to him when his father locked him in a mausoleum and made him listen to every spirit who would scream for his help as a kid. How do you even  _ begin _ to explain that to someone and not sound crazy?

Instead, Klaus takes a deep breath and says, “I don’t think these nightmares are going away anytime soon.” Because if they haven’t gone yet, then they’re probably here to stay. 

Somehow, Dave seems to understand just what he means. At least, the simpler version of it. “These nightmares aren’t from  _ here _ ...” 

Klaus’ hands travel from his face to scratch through his hair, down the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he mutters. 

It’s quiet, and for a moment, everything seems to stand still until Dave asks, “Is that why you drink so much?”

_ Shit _ . Is it  _ that _ obvious how fucked up he is? Even now, in the past, without hard drugs or his siblings and their dysfunctional family all over headlines, is it still that obvious? Klaus turns to look at Dave in the dim light of the hotel room, unsure of what to say, and immediately, Dave begins to backtrack. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “That was a really personal question. I shouldn’t have -”

“I think we’ve moved far beyond asking personal questions,” Klaus says, sparing a glance between them. They’re both still naked beneath the sheets, it has only been hours since Dave had him pressed into this shitty hotel bed, gasping his name. “And yes, that definitely has something to do with it,” he answers. 

Dave hums as if he understands. He has no idea. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

Klaus sighs. That’s the  _ last  _ thing he ever wants to do. Just brings up too many fucked up emotions. “Not particularly, no.”

And, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to drop it, Dave does. “Then you don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Klaus’ shoulder.

Klaus snorts out a half-laugh in response.  _ “Fuck,” _ he mutters, “Why are you so…  _ perfect?” _

Dave chuckles at Klaus’ words. “I’m hardly -”

_ “No,” _ Klaus argues before he can even get the words out, “No, you are. You make me feel like I can tell you anything… I feel like you know me better than Ben even and -”

Klaus catches himself after the words leave his lips and stops talking, but the damage is done. Dave seems to catch the words. 

“Ben?” he asks, curious. 

Klaus clears his throat. Well, so much about not talking about it. “Yeah,” he says, “He’s uh… He’s my brother. He passed away, a while back.”

_ Or a few decades into the future, depending on how you spin it.  _

“I’m so sorry,” Dave murmurs, “I assume you two were close?”

Klaus’ thoughts wander to Ben. He thinks about how, when they were kids, Ben was the only one who really seemed to get him. How he’d spend hours at a time in Ben’s room, comforting him after missions, when he was forced to maim or kill people using his powers. He thinks about how Ben was the  _ only _ person he ever told about their father locking him up. 

He thinks of Ben, and how he hasn’t seen him since he left 2019. Does Ben miss him? Has he even noticed that he’s gone?

“Very,” he answers, voice soft. 

Dave is quiet for a moment before he says, tentative, “You talk to him, in your sleep sometimes.”

Klaus’ eyes widen and he glances at Dave again.  _ “Really?” _

Dave nods, “Yeah, I’ve heard you do it a few times. It’s almost like you’re having a conversation with him.”

Klaus huffs. “Figures.”

It goes quiet between them again, and for a few minutes, in the dead of night, Klaus is just content to sit here like this, Dave tracing random patterns into his skin with feather-light touches. Klaus’ head hangs between his shoulders, eyes closed, but thankfully, the silence doesn’t feel heavy. It’s comfortable, as if Dave knows that he needs it. 

So when Klaus opens his mouth to speak again, he even surprises himself. 

“I have five brothers and sisters, back home. Six, if you count Ben.” Which Klaus most certainly does. 

Dave is quiet, allowing Klaus to either continue or stop there. It’s all about whatever he feels comfortable sharing. 

“We… we didn’t have the best childhood,” Klaus says, and as soon as the words leave his lips, it’s as if the air has been punched from his lungs. It’s something he has been holding onto for decades. “Dad was a fucking sadist, to put it lightly, and Mom… she pretended not to notice.”

He shakes his head, a bitter, ugly, sarcastic smile finding its place on his face, “It’s bullshit, because you’d think that… that  _ shared _ trauma would have brought us all closer, but it just pushed us further apart. We all know how much he fucked all of us up, but won’t talk about it. We don’t really talk much, and I didn’t leave on the best terms with most of them.”

That much is true. It’s something that Klaus has been thinking for  _ years _ , something that he wishes he had the guts to say to his siblings. 

He continues, “So yeah, I still have nightmares about it. And that’s why I drink… among other things. I’m kind of fucked up, if you haven’t noticed.” 

And then, Klaus waits. He waits for the inevitable, because this is when most people run.  _ Hell _ , he never even lets anyone else get this close. He’s never said  _ any _ of this to anyone before. It’s fucking terrifying, if he’s being honest. 

So he waits for Dave to try to give him an easy alternative -  _ “have you tried talking to someone about it?” “you know, drinking and drugs aren't going to solve your problem” _ \- but it doesn’t come. Instead, Dave says, “So what if you are?”

_ That _ , Klaus didn’t expect. He turns to glance at him, this time holding Dave’s gaze. “What?”

“So what if you are a little fucked up,” Dave shrugs, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We all are. I can’t begin to understand what you’ve gone through, and I won’t make you tell me if you don’t have to. But I  _ do _ know what it’s like to come from a cold, distant and unaccepting family, and I know how easy it is to slip into drinking or drugs to numb the pain. I get it. I won’t judge you for that, Klaus.”

Klaus doesn’t know what to say, so he just breathes a soft,  _ “Oh.” _

Dave offers him a small smile and continues,  _ “But, _ I’ll tell you one thing… You’ll feel much stronger, once you come out of this alive, and  _ clean _ . And I know you will. You’re going through some shit, and I get it. Deal with it in whatever way you have to, but just know that you’ve got me here along for the ride.” 

_ Fuck. _

Those are the exact words that Klaus has been dying to hear from someone,  _ anyone _ , but he just didn’t know it. Those are the words he has been waiting for from his family, from  _ Ben _ even. Just that acceptance and understanding… Klaus had hoped to hear it from those who shared in those childhood traumas with him, but instead, he finds it in a guy he has only known for a few months, in a different place and time entirely. 

This guy… This wonderful, caring, strong, beautiful guy is telling him that it’s  _ okay _ to be fucked up, that he’ll accept him either way, and that’s all Klaus has ever wanted to hear. 

Before Klaus can stop himself, the words are leaving his lips. Words that he never understood before, but he sure as hell does now. 

“I love you.”

The three words leave his lips in a rush of air, as if he can’t hold them in any longer, and  _ fuck _ Klaus has never told anyone this before, not even his own siblings, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating. 

Dave smiles. “Klaus, I -”

_ “Fuck,” _ Klaus laughs, giddy, excited and terrified all at the same time. “Shit, I love you, Dave.”

Then, it’s Dave’s turn to laugh. He wraps his arms around Klaus from behind, peppering kisses to his hair, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, before murmuring in return, “I love  _ you _ , Klaus.”

And for a moment, everything seems to slow down. Everything is okay. There are no voices, there is no fear, just…  _ Dave _ . And  _ shit _ , this really is better than any drug Klaus has ever done. Why didn’t he try this sooner? Why didn’t he try falling in love before? 

It’s not the first time that Klaus considers never returning to 2019. Why should he, when life is clearly so much better here? 

And it  _ is _ better, at least for the next five months. 

After their two nights in the shitty motel (the second, which includes more sex, more soft ‘I love you’s and unsurprisingly more heart-to-hearts) Klaus stops drinking quite as much, rarely does drugs, and finds himself feeling better than he has in decades. He sees ghosts, especially after particularly rough battles, and he certainly drinks to numb  _ that _ , especially when he can’t publicly embrace Dave for the comfort that he  _ really _ needs, but it’s not as bad as it was before.

In a weird way, Klaus thinks that he’s finally understanding how to control it. At least a little bit. 

Multiple times, Klaus considers telling Dave everything, but it’s too complicated, too convoluted. It’s better saved for a moment of peace and quiet, after this is all over.

But then, three, then four, then five months go by, and Klaus slowly realizes that this isn’t ending anytime soon, and he realizes that he’s either in this for the long haul, or he needs to tell Dave, and get out of here soon. As much as he enjoys spending time with the other man, a war zone isn’t necessarily the place he wants to do it. He’d much rather be safe and sound and free to kiss and touch him whenever he’d like. 

It’s easier said than done, though, and although the briefcase weighs heavy on him, bringing it up is something else all together. 

Once or twice, Klaus asks Dave, during their stolen moments together, “If you could leave here, right now, and start over somewhere new, would you?”

Dave smiles, seemingly amused by Klaus’ question. “With you?” he asks. 

Klaus shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”

“Then yes,” Dave replies immediately, “In a heartbeat.”

And Klaus considers telling Dave right then and there, asking him to leave with him in the dead of night, leave this all behind and start a life together, but he decides to give it another few days to prepare himself. He’ll have a  _ lot _ of explaining to do, and he needs Dave to understand and agree to everything before just throwing him into his crazy, fucked up life. 

Then, within hours, they’re out on the front lines and Klaus is cursing himself for not saying something sooner and eager to pull Dave aside and tell him  _ everything _ as soon as he gets back. This is it, this is the end of the line, it’s all or nothing and he wants to share everything with Dave, even the weirdest, ugliest sides of himself. 

But he doesn’t get the chance, because in the blink of an eye, Dave is gone.

And, as it turns out, heartbreak is worse than any comedown Klaus has ever experienced.    
  



	3. Distract My Brain From The Terrible News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I did not anticipate this being so long when I first started working on it, but then all these feelings happened, so here you go!
> 
> This chapter was so rewarding to write because I was dying to write a few more interactions between Klaus and his siblings, especially Diego, Allison and Five. 
> 
> Enjoy!

After losing Dave, there’s nothing keeping Klaus in 1968 anymore. Somehow, he survives that battle, because the universe is cruel and fucked up, and he _really_ shouldn’t be surprised that the one person that he has ever truly loved got ripped away from him too soon.

So, with trembling hands, as soon as they’re back to basecamp and while everyone else is mourning the dead, Klaus sets the dial on the briefcase to 2019 and, with a deep breath, eyes closed, he’s gone.

Dave’s blood is everywhere. His uniform, his boots… It’s covering his hand and embedded beneath his fingernails and little specks are splattered across his upper arms and likely on his face and hair. So, when he arrives home - he doesn’t even really remember getting there, it’s all a blacked-out blur - Klaus strips and climbs into the bathtub in an attempt to clean up, to forget.

But he can’t.

He can’t forget Dave. He can’t forget those ten months spent in Vietnam with the love of his life, fighting side by side, stealing kisses and sweet, whispered words, promises to start a life together as soon as they were out of that shit. And he can’t forget that fleeting moment, just hours before Dave _died_ , when Klaus had asked him to run away with him, to start over somewhere new. If only he had the guts to just tell him everything then and there. If only he wouldn’t have hesitated, maybe he’d be here with Dave right now, and everything would be different. Everything would be okay.

But it’s not okay, and Klaus isn’t sure how he’s supposed to move on when he can’t even catch a moment to breathe.

Before Klaus even has a chance to process the fact that he just lived out ten months of his life in only two days, that he fell in love harder than he ever has before and watched the person he loved die right in front of him, and long before he even has a chance to begin to grieve properly, he’s thrust back into the goddamn _Umbrella Academy_ to save the world or something and he honestly doesn’t even care.

 _Good_ , let the world end. What else does he have left to lose?

With just a few days left until the world is supposed to end, he decides to get clean, if for nothing else than to just see Dave one last time, before the world comes crashing down, if that’s really what it’s going to do. But the problem is, the world fucking _ending_ is kind of a big deal, and he doesn’t even get the chance to _see_ Dave before he’s called into action and helping his brothers and sister save the world, or whatever.

But _then,_ Klaus dies, at least for a few minutes, and he nearly celebrates because _at least he’ll get to see Dave again_. At least he’ll get to touch him and kiss him and tell him how sorry he was that he couldn’t save him…

But he doesn’t even fucking get that. Because not only does the universe hate him, but apparently God does too. And when he comes to - in the middle of some shitty rave, surrounded by strangers with no Luther in sight - it’s with the cold realization that the world is a fucked up place, life isn’t fair, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

Later, Klaus also realizes that his father, regardless of the fact that he is still a massive piece of shit even in the afterlife, was right about one thing: he had only really scratched the surface of his true powers. Klaus learns this when Ben punches him, and later when Ben saves Diego’s life. And most importantly, Klaus realizes that maybe, he’s capable of so much more than he always thought when he’s able to bring Ben back into the world of the living for just a few minutes to help save their family.

But still, Klaus doesn’t have the time to worry about himself or even think of Dave, because only moments later, Number Five is using his power to transport them to another timeline, because _surprise surprise,_ they’re still just a bunch of fuck-ups and didn’t manage to save the world.

* * *

 

Five calls it a pocket universe and Klaus is pretty sure that none of them aside from Five actually know what that means, but they’re fifteen years in the past, in the Academy, and somehow have managed to find some sort of timeline that’ll stop them from running into their past selves or (god forbid) their father. Either way, it gives them _time_ , and they’re going to need it. A _lot_ of it, especially if they’re planning on going back to try to save the world.

Klaus is the first to suggest it - “Why don’t we just stay here?” - but immediately receives pushback from his siblings who insist that they can’t just be content to stay here while _their_ universe is ending, and _yeah okay,_ that makes sense. Or at least, it makes the most sense of everything happening right now, because _all of this_ is fucking crazy. It makes his head hurt, and Klaus is certain that he isn’t the only one, because it’s trippy as fuck to go to bed one night in your thirteen year old body in a new timeline, just after watching the world end, and wake up the next morning an adult again.

(Five isn’t so lucky, and he spends weeks trying to figure out why he’s still trapped in his teenage body to no avail.)

It’s slow-going at first, too. After she finally comes-to, Vanya doesn’t remember _anything._ Whether it was the jump that scrambled her head, or if it was the the full force of her powers - powers that she had been unknowingly suppressing her entire life - coming out all at once after all those years, Klaus isn’t sure, but he knows that Five might have an idea, judging by the way that he treats her upon finding out. The last thing that Vanya remembers, in fact, is getting to the cabin with Leonard Peabody (or Harold Jenkins) and Klaus doesn’t want to be there when Five and Allison have to explain to her what happened, how she was manipulated by him since the day they met, and by their father for her entire life. He doesn’t even know if or when they have that conversation with her, because honestly, he has his own problems to worry about.

Two days after Five transports them to _wherever the fuck they are_ , Klaus busies himself in Reginald’s abandoned study, like he has done countless times in the past. In this universe, it looks like it hasn’t been disturbed in ages, but that doesn’t stop Klaus from reaching for an expensive looking bottle of gin, dusting it off with his shirt sleeve before heading to the kitchen to find something to use as a mixer. “Wonder if there’s even anything to mix it with in this godforsaken place…” he mutters to himself.

“You should probably _eat_ something,” Ben encourages from behind him, “Rather than drinking. You haven’t eaten in nearly two days.”

Klaus huffs, rolling his eyes fondly at his deceased brother. (Because apparently, the jump fixed Allison’s injuries and wiped Vanya’s memories, but it couldn’t give Luther his normal body back, age Five or bring Ben back from the dead.) “Yeah, well surviving the apocalypse kind of does some weird things to you,” he mutters, rummaging through the refrigerator.  

Ben sighs. “I get that. But last I remember, you wanted to get clean.”

Klaus grins when he spies the ginger ale near the back of the fridge, something that Diego must have picked up at the corner store when he went for a walk earlier that morning. When he stands to grab a glass for his mixed drink, he only spares Ben a glance. “I _am_ clean, dear brother,” he insists, “No drugs, alcohol is different.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. _“Is it?”_

Klaus swirls his drink together with his index finger, taking a sip before sighing in relief and regarding Ben once more. _“Yes_ , it is,” he insists at last, “I’m not popping pills or smoking or snorting shit, but _I’m sorry_ , I need _something_ to take the edge off, Ben.”

 _“Ben’s here?”_ A voice asks from the other end of the room, and Klaus twirls around to find Diego standing in the doorway opposite of him, gazing at Klaus like if he looks hard enough, he’ll be able to see Ben, too.

Klaus huffs out a soft laugh. It’s not lost on him how open he and Diego have become with one another just over the course of the last few days, bound together by recent losses and shared trauma. “Yeah,” he replies, voice soft. He glances over his shoulder at Ben, who stands stock-still, hands in his pockets, “Yeah, he’s here.”

Diego glances between Klaus and the seemingly empty space over his left shoulder, unsure of what to do or say for a moment before he clears his throat. “Hey, uh… Klaus said that you were the one who saved me, back at the Academy the other day,” he mutters, eyes searching out the vacant room for something to latch onto. He’s not _quite_ looking at Ben, but Klaus _knows_ that Ben appreciates the effort. “Thanks, man… Really. I - I really miss you.”

“I miss you too, Diego,” Ben breathes, and Klaus can practically _feel_ his energy, the warmth radiating from his chest, and _wow_ that’s new.

Ben seems to notice it as well, because he glances at Klaus then and asks, “Can you feel that?”

Klaus nods, eyes wide, “Yeah, I can.”

“What’s going on?” Diego asks, eyes darting between Klaus and the empty space, “What did he say?”

“He - he says he misses you too,” Klaus stammers, eyes wide. And _fuck_ it feels like his body is on fire. He’s never felt this way before.

“But what’s going on?” Diego asks again, taking a few steps forward, “You don’t look too hot.”

Normally, Klaus would tease, something along the lines of _I always look hot, I don’t know what you’re talking about_ or _aww, Diego, I didn’t know you felt that way about me_ , but he can’t right now. Not with how he’s feeling.

“I uh…” Klaus sucks in a shuddering breath. Suddenly, everything feels like too much. “I can _feel_ him.”

Diego cocks his head, “What do you mean you -”

“You can feel my emotions, can’t you?” Ben asks, and this time, when he speaks, Diego’s eyes go wide.  

_“Ben?”_

Both Klaus and Ben glance up at their brother, shocked. “You can -”

“I heard him,” Diego breathes, as if he doesn’t believe it. _“Holy shit,_ Klaus, I _heard_ him. How did you do that?”

And then, Klaus is laughing, absolutely giddy. The warmth that fills his chest is still overwhelming and it makes his head spin and honestly he _feels_ high right now, but he still laughs. _Holy shit_.

“I have no fucking idea,” Klaus answers, “I’ve never - this has never happened before, I don’t - I don’t know.”

“Fuck,” Diego mutters, and then he’s laughing as well, pulling Klaus in for an unexpected, tight embrace, _“Fuck_ , Klaus… This is amazing.”

* * *

 

Following that moment in the kitchen, Klaus resolves to continue to get sober - something he had been working toward before the world fucking ended and everything went to shit. He hates to admit it, but Ben was _right_ . He _shouldn’t_ be drinking or doing drugs if he wants to continue to work on controlling his powers.

And it’s fucking terrifying. It’s terrifying, because the last time that Klaus was actively training, he was just a child, still under Reginald Hargreeves’ thumb, horrified of the spirits that lurked in the shadows, calling his name with raspy, desperate voices. The last time he was actively training, his _father_ locked him in a mausoleum for over twelve hours in an effort to “help him unlock his powers.” And after, that, Klaus had vowed not to delve into it any more. He didn’t want to. He didn’t _need_ to.

But if he was able to bring Ben back by using his powers, then it would be worth it. Even if their siblings could just _see_ Ben again, even if just for a few moments, it would be worth it.

Then, there’s the matter of Dave.

Ever since returning from 1968, Klaus has tried time and time again to conjure Dave, but to no avail. But _maybe_ , if he can sort out the issue of his powers, he’ll be able to see Dave again.

Of course, Klaus loves Ben and wants to be able to help him as well, but the thought of finally being able to see Dave, to _touch_ Dave again, is what _really_ motivates Klaus.

It’s fucking _hard_ , though. It’s hard, because even with their father’s journal this time around, even after reading all of the notes that Reginald took on him and training for hours upon hours with Diego and Ben and Five, Klaus still feels like he’s getting nowhere. Days go by, then weeks, then a few months, and it seems like he hasn’t made _any_ headway. Other than a few more quick moments where Diego can hear Ben’s voice or Klaus can feel his emotions, there’s _nothing_.

And it’s hard, because when Klaus is feeling frustrated or lost or _scared_ when the other ghosts come to him the most when he’s alone at night, he can’t turn to drugs or alcohol to escape. He _can’t_ , otherwise it’s just going to set him back again.

More often than not, Klaus curls up in his too-small bed, Ben sitting at the foot of it, murmuring soft words of encouragement in an effort to drown out the voices of the other ghosts, none of them the voice that Klaus longs to hear the most. Other times, he’ll escape from his bedroom and knock softly on Diego’s door, and when Diego sees the exhausted look on his face and dark circles under his eyes, he’s quick to invite Klaus inside, never saying a single word as Klaus climbs into his bed. Those nights, the physical touch of Diego, holding him close, is better than kind words from Ben.

Over time, it becomes easier to control the other ghosts and drown out their voices, and Klaus _knows_ that the training is paying off, slowly but surely, but months later, he _still_ can’t conjure Dave and he still can’t touch Ben and it’s frustrating. It’s more than frustrating, because _what the fuck else is he supposed to do?_ He tries meditating, he tries yoga, he even attempts lucid dreaming, but months go by, and he doesn’t feel like he has improved at all, and it’s _hard_.

Most days, Ben is able to talk Klaus out of resorting to drugs or alcohol, but on a particularly hard day, about four months after the apocalypse and after Five transports them to the future, Klaus relapses.

When he has a moment without Ben - he has been wandering the house, keeping up with Vanya’s training whenever Klaus meditates - Klaus takes advantage of it and is out the back door and heading downtown before anyone can even notice he’s gone. Pills are expensive and weed will get him high, but he’s looking for something with a little bit more of a kick, so when Klaus scores a little baggie of cocaine, he’s excited to be _numb_ again, to forget about everything for a little while.

What he doesn’t expect is for it to make matters even worse. Sure the cocaine does a great job of numbing him, but it also makes Klaus feel like a complete and utter piece of shit. When he stumbles in the door that evening, an open bottle of vodka in one hand, he wants nothing more than to just curl up in bed and not wake up in the morning. He wants nothing more than to just go back to his own timeline and stay behind, to die in the fucking apocalypse instead of surviving only to continue to be the biggest disappointment of his siblings. (Hell, Vanya even brought about the end of the world and _she_ isn’t even as shitty at her job as he is.) All he wants to do is go back to 1968 and stay there and -

_Wait._

Without thinking, Klaus stumbles down the hallway, past his bedroom and towards Five’s. He doesn’t knock, but just barges in without warning, finding his brother hunched over a large sheet of paper on his desk, writing out formula after formula.

Five glances up at him when Klaus steps into his room. “You know, you could knock first.”

Klaus rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, yeah I know… You’re thirteen again and I know your hormones are all over the place, sorry but -”

“Are you _drunk_?” Five asks, narrowing his eyes at Klaus, face scrunching up in disappointment.

“Heh,” Klaus shrugs, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Klaus,” Five stands, running a hand through his hair. He crosses the room quickly, plucking the bottle of vodka from Klaus’ hand. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’ve been doing so well.”

“Because it’s fucking _hard_ Five,” Klaus groans, “I know you don’t understand because you have your powers all under control, but -”

 _“Bullshit_ I have my powers under control,” Five bites, “I’m stuck in the body of a thirteen year old. I _barely_ got us here safely, don’t give me that shit.”

 _“Sorry,”_ Klaus whines, arms outstretched, “I’m sorry, Five, it’s just hard, and I have no idea what I’m doing and -”

“Do you think any of us do?” Five argues, his eyes narrowing.

“Well no, but -”

“Then why are you here?” Five asks, “Why are you drunk right now?”

Klaus sighs. Well, here goes nothing. “I came to ask you a favor.”

Five doesn’t say anything, but he does raise his eyebrows in response. Wordlessly, he lifts the bottle of vodka to his lips and takes a swig, and for a moment, Klaus is transported back in time, to sitting in his bedroom, playing innocent drinking games with his siblings when times were so much simpler. If only he could go back -

 _Right_.

“I need you to take me back to 1968,” he says, voice clear and confident despite his intoxication.

Five sighs. “Klaus…”

“No, no hear me out,” Klaus insits, “I just need you to take me back so I can… So I can save Dave. I can bring him here, and he’ll be able to help me, he’ll -”

Klaus doesn’t explain that it had been easier to stay sober around Dave, because being in love was nearly as strong as most drugs.

“I can’t do that,” Number Five says at last, voice stern.

Klaus frowns. “Why the hell not?”

“First off, it would be _completely_ irresponsible to let you run around in some timeline that you have the risk of running into yourself,” Five starts.

“I don’t care about that,” Klaus counters.

“Well I do,” Five insists.

“Then you could go for me. You could -”

 _“No,”_ Five mutters, voice hard.

“Five…”

“And _second_ ,” he continues, “Even if you do stop your lover -”

 _“Dave,”_ Klaus interjects.

“Right. So even if you do stop _Dave_ from dying, what then?”

Klaus cocks his head, unsure if he’s not following because he’s drunk or because Five is always two steps ahead of him. “What do you mean?”

“The only reason you came back from 1968 was because he died, right?” Five asks, “Would you have stayed otherwise?”

And _shit_ , that’s a good question, but…

“No,” Klaus mutters, “I was planning on bringing him back with me.” He thinks back, remembering that last conversation he had with Dave, that moment of weakness where he almost told him everything, if only he had… If only he would have just taken Dave’s hand and left then and there.

“Great, so you’re going to bring him back to 2019 where the world is ending in three days, only to watch him die again?” Number Five asks, cutting Klaus’ thoughts short.

“Well, but -” Klaus starts, but he’s interrupted before he can get another word out.

“But _nothing_ ,” Five argues, “If you would have brought him back with you, he would have died just like _everyone_ else.”

“No,” Klaus shakes his head, “We could bring him here, with us. We could -”

Five sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. “It was already hard enough for me to get all six of us -”

“Seven counting Ben.”

“Right, _seven_ of us here without completely fucking all of you up. And I’m _still_ in a child’s body,” Five counters, “What if I wasn’t strong enough to bring an eighth? Then what? We all just die there instead?”

Before he has a chance to filter himself, Klaus mutters, “Is that so bad?”

 _“Jesus, fuck,”_ Five bites, “Get your priorities straight, Klaus. It’s not meant to be. We have bigger things to worry about and -”

“You don’t get it,” Klaus interrupts, heated. “He’s - he’s the only person I’ve ever loved… The only person who has ever loved me.”

“Yeah?” Five bites back, frustrated as well, “Does he love the _real_ you? You know, drug addiction, powers, trauma, family and all? Did you tell him about all of _that_ , Klaus? What did he say?”

“I’ve been clean for four months,” Klaus hisses, seething.

“You’re _wasted_ right now,” Five argues.

Klaus sighs. “It has been a rough couple of days, okay?”

But instead of responding to that, Five just continues their conversation. “Did you tell him about all of us?” he asks again, “About how you see dead people?”

“I didn’t need to,” Klaus bites.

“Bullshit,” Five hisses, “You were just scared of what he’d say. He didn’t love the real you. He -”

 _“Fuck you,”_ Klaus snaps at last, “You’re just as scared and sad and lonely as the rest of us, you can’t hide it, _Five._ ”

“Klaus -”

“I don’t even know why I actually thought you’d help me,” Klaus continues, “It’s not like you’d understand. You’ve never even been in love.”

Five fixes him with a hard glare. “Don’t try to lecture me on -”

“What, _love?”_ Klaus bites, a bitter, angry smile curling his lips, “Oh yeah, I forgot, you fell in love with a _fucking mannequin.”_

And that’s what does it. Five goes still, his face hard, emotionless. “This conversation is over.”

* * *

 

Klaus would be lying if he said he didn’t feel guilty about his argument with Number Five a few days later, once he has sobered up to realize how much he fucked up and dumped the remaining coke down the toilet, but he doesn’t apologize. Just like his siblings, Klaus is too hard headed and stubborn to say anything to Five.

But deep down, he knows that his brother is right. He can’t just go back and get Dave. It’s not that simple, but he wishes it was. He knows that Five would say something about formulas and algorithms and Dave being an unexpected factor, and he knows that he’s right. If it weren’t for Dave’s death, he probably _wouldn’t_ have come home. Or if he did, it would have been _with_ Dave, and it would have changed everything.

But Dave’s death had served as the catalyst to something. If it weren’t for his death, Klaus wouldn’t have gotten sober enough to unlock his powers and subsequently bring Ben back for a few moments and save their lives. And _he_ wouldn’t be here, alive, now.

And while death doesn’t sound all that bad as long as it means he gets to be with Dave, Klaus knows that he can’t just turn his back on humanity and his family, as dysfunctional as they may be.

So he tries to work past those intrusive thoughts and his fears and regrets. Klaus uses his pain and his frustration, and a few days after his fight with Number Five, he buries himself with training and work and recovery. And _thankfully,_ with training and working through all of their bullshit (especially helping to train Vanya) it is relatively easy to distract himself, swapping one addiction for another.

One night after dinner (a few weeks after his relapse and altercation with Five), Klaus retreats to his bedroom, exhausted both physically and mentally. He has been working all day with Ben and Diego, trying to find a way to get his brother to manifest in front of them again, but, as they’ve found before, it seems that he can only get it to happen in emotional, high risk situations. And it _sucks_ , because how is he supposed to learn how to control his powers when they only work in intense situations or fights?

Klaus kicks his door shut behind him, crossing his room quickly to flop onto his bed, hands pressing into his eyes.

He’s not surprised when Ben’s voice breaks the silence of his room. “I’m proud of you,” he says softly.

Klaus sighs. “For what? We haven’t accomplished _shit._ I can’t bring you back again and we still have no idea how to stop the world from ending and -”

“It’s not about that,” Ben interrupts,  “I’m proud of you for getting sober, even though I know the one thing you want to do more than anything right now is numb all of this.”

Klaus glances up at his brother. “Yeah…” he mutters, “Thanks.”

“Don’t think about training right now,” Ben insists, “It’ll only stress you out more.”

“Then what am I supposed to think about?” Klaus snaps. His face softens almost immediately, offering Ben a silent apology.

Ben opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, there’s a soft knock on Klaus' bedroom door. They both share a glance before Klaus sits up, calling, “Come in.”

He doesn’t expect to see Allison on the other side when his bedroom door cracks open, but it’s a welcome sight. They haven’t had the chance to talk or see each other much, with Allison spending as much time as possible with Vanya.

“Hey,” Allison says with a smile, and Klaus will never get tired of her voice, now. He nearly breathes a sigh of relief every single time she speaks, glad that time travel was able to fix _something_.

Taking a step inside the room, Allison holds up a small bottle of black nail polish. “I figured we could uh… You know, for old time’s sake.”

Klaus grins, scooting over on his bed to make room for Allison while Ben rises, as if he’s taking up space as well. “Well, come on,” Klaus says, patting the bed.

Before long, he and Allison are sitting cross-legged on his bed, facing one another. Wordlessly, Klaus offers her his left hand, and as it lays in her lap, she begins to coat his nails with dark polish.

“What gave you this idea?” Klaus asks carefully, watching as Allison gingerly lifts his hand.  

Allison simply shrugs, “We haven’t had much time to hang out,” she offers in response, “Even before all of this went to shit.”

Klaus huffs out a breath of air and murmurs “Yeah, I missed this.”

“Me too,” Allison replies, “And our little fashion shows…”

“Oh _god,”_ Klaus groans, his free hand coming up to cover his face. “I’m so glad there are no photos of that…”

“God, I wish there were,” Allison laughs, “You had some good outfits.”

“Yeah, they inspire some of your red carpet looks?” Klaus teases.

Allison chuckles. “You know, maybe they did…”

Klaus rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue with his sister. Sitting here, watching her paint his nails like she did when they were kids, reminiscing on the times that he tried on some of her more risque outfits, he is unable to wipe the smile from his face.

 _Yeah_ , he needed something like this.

 _Then_ , as Allison moves to his right hand, she says, “Tell me about Dave.”

Klaus tenses at Dave’s name, glancing up at Allison through thick lashes. He hasn’t talked to her about Dave or his time Vietnam much. All Allison knows is what she has heard in passing, or overheard Klaus saying to Five or Diego. But he doesn’t balk at the chance to talk about him.

“He uh…” Klaus clears his throat, “I don’t know. What do you want to know about him?”

Allison shrugs, offering Klaus a smile. “Anything and everything. What drew you to him?”

For a moment, Klaus lets himself imagine that this is one of their many sleepovers… that it’s one of the nights that Klaus snuck into her room and spent the night trying on her clothes, using her makeup, taking about boys…

He smiles. “Dave was… too kind,” he starts, “For someplace like Vietnam, you know? Thought the sun shone out of my ass for some reason. Held onto hope even when it was stupid.”

Allison hums. “He sounds sweet.”

Klaus nods, mind elsewhere. “Oh, he was. And funny, and strong, and beautiful…” It’s quiet for a beat before Klaus continues, “I told him about dad, the shit he put us through. About all my… drug use and everything. And you know what he said?”

Allison glances up, her eyes meeting Klaus’. She doesn’t say anything, just waits for him to go on.

“He told me that it didn’t make me who I was,” Klaus says, his voice thick with emotion. “That it didn’t have to shape us.”

“Damn…” Allison breathes.

Klaus huffs out a laugh. “I know, right? I felt like I’d been waiting all my life for someone to say that to me, and now -”

He stops himself, cutting his words short. He doesn’t want to say it

_And now he’s gone._

Allison reads him easily, though. After a moment of silence, she asks, “How have you been doing? Really?”

When Klaus holds her gaze, it’s only for a brief second, but it’s so heavy that it feels like forever. Eventually, he scoffs. “You don’t wanna hear about that sad-sack shit.”

At that, Allison pauses her actions on his ring finger, giving Klaus a look that says _try me._

He sighs. “Honestly? I don’t know how I’m doing. I don’t… Did you know that I died? For a few minutes, back in the club, when I was trying to help Luther, I died and I saw dad.”

Allison’s eyes widen in response. _“What?”_

Klaus laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah, I saw dad, and he’s still the same fucking asshole we knew and loved. He told me he was disappointed in me, that I still had yet to scratch the surface of my powers. And then, that shit with Ben happened back in the theatre, but I haven’t been able to do it since.”

He sighs, continuing “I’m _trying_ , but I don’t even know what I’m trying to do. It’s not like we have a fucking instruction manual… Dad’s journal is only so much help and Ben and I have been trying _everything_ to get him to materialize again, but… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Allison says, always encouraging, supportive, “It’ll just take time.”

“Yeah,” Klaus mutters, scrubbing his free hand over his face. “I just… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can’t even conjure Dave…”

Her eyebrows raise. “You’ve been trying?”

“Yeah, ever since we got here,” Klaus admits, “Every night.” Over Allison’s shoulder, Ben shoots him a pained look. He has been there every night, after Klaus tries and fails to conjure Dave, consoling him and insisting that he’ll be able to do it eventually, that he can’t give up.

Allison looks down at Klaus’ half-finished right hand. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I do. I wish I could just go back, and stop it from happening, save him, you know?”

“I know the feeling,” Allison says, “Every single day I think about Claire. And I know…” her voice breaks, “I know that if we get this right, she’ll be okay, we’ll be able to save her, but all I can think about is - is -”

“ _Hey_ ,” Before she has a chance to finish her thought, Klaus is reaching out with his free hand, pulling Allison in for a hug, “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

He isn’t used to comforting his siblings like this - usually, Klaus is the _last_ person anyone would come to with their problems - but he knows that Allison needs this. She was the only one out of all of them to have a semi-normal life, and that was all ripped away from her. She never even had a chance to say goodbye to her daughter, and Klaus _knows_ how that feels. It’s a different kind of love, but it’s how he feels when he thinks of Dave.

Allison lets out a shuddering sob, and Klaus clutches her tighter in return, wet nail polish be damned. He doesn’t speak, because there are no words he can say to make things right, so instead, he just holds her until she’s ready to speak.

“I just,” Allison sucks in a deep breath, exhaling it on a shudder, “I can’t stop thinking about her, about how scared she must have been, and -”

 _“Stop,”_ Klaus interrupts gently, “The more you think about that, the worse you’re going to feel. We’ll figure this out, okay? And once we do, you’ll be able to see her again. I promise. She’ll be okay.”

Allison nods against him. “I know, I know. But I - I keep thinking about just… Taking the briefcase, going back to bring her here, but…” She shakes her head, “I know, we just need to figure shit out and that won’t matter.”

Klaus nods against her, but then, he’s freezing because -

 _“Briefcase?”_ he asks, “What briefcase?”

When they pull apart, Allison wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Oh, I thought you knew,” she mutters, “Five went back and stole one… It’s an escape route for us. Just in case.”

“Oh,” Klaus mutters, his brain struggling to catch up with Allison’s words, “Right, yeah, I must have forgotten.”

Allison, distracted, doesn’t read too much into it. Instead, she says, “Claire would love to meet you guys, though. You’re all she asks about.”

Klaus laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t meet your heroes.”

“No, I’m serious,” Allison says with a smile, “Whenever I’d read her bedtime stories, she’d always just ask to hear more about The Umbrella Academy.”

“Well, when we figure this out, you’re going to have an even better story to tell her,” Klaus promises.

* * *

 

Following Allison’s mention of it, Klaus can’t stop thinking about the briefcase.

First, he’s angry. Angry that Five apparently didn’t trust him enough to tell him about it. That apparently everyone else knew _except_ for him. Sure, Klaus had stolen from his siblings in the past to fuel his drug habit, but he has _changed_ since then. He’s getting better. Even Five should know that.

Then, he’s disappointed. He’s disappointed because he came to Five for help, and his brother had given him some bullshit excuse about being worried about bringing more than seven people here, that there was a chance that they could die because his powers aren’t strong enough. But with the briefcase, that shouldn’t be an issue, right? In fact, shouldn’t they just be able to go to 1968, grab Dave and come straight back here?

Then, Klaus feels hopeful. Determined.

If Five won’t help him, then he’ll help himself. He’ll go back and get Dave on his own.

It takes two weeks before Number Five lets his guard down and leaves his room unattended for an extended period of time. It’s only twenty minutes, but it’s long enough for Klaus to go snooping through his things. And _thankfully_ , it seems that Five has underestimated him, because Klaus finds the briefcase relatively quickly, slid under Five’s bed, pressed up against the wall.

Klaus wastes no time in turning the dials to a very specific day in 1968, and, holding his breath, he clicks the briefcase open.

And _fuck_ , it triggers so many emotions, being back in Vietnam again. The thick moisture of the air, the intense buzz of a battle, just about to happen.

And _Dave_.

Klaus doesn’t see him right away, but he knows where to look for him because he remembers this day.

As he walks around camp, Klaus stays relatively hidden, making sure not to get spotted by himself or anyone else, Five’s words repeating in his head. He could really fuck up the timeline by being here but… Well, he supposes he’s here to do just that.

Klaus waits near some of the trucks for Dave and himself to appear, and like clockwork, he watches as they both do.

Klaus _thrills_ when he first sees Dave. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, finally laying eyes on the man he’s been dying to see for _months,_ and it takes all of his willpower not to approach him now.

He watches, as Dave glances around for a moment before backing past-Klaus up against the bed of a truck, taking his face gingerly in his hands and kissing him like nothing else matters. For a second, they’re alone, and even Klaus almost feels guilty for watching it.

Almost.

Eyes locked on Dave, breathless, he watches as he asks the question -

_“If you could leave here, right now, and start over somewhere new, would you?”_

And Dave simply smiles, this warm, bright thing. _“With you?”_

Klaus watches himself try to play it cool, shrugging. _“If that’s what you want.”_

 _“Then yes,”_ Dave replies immediately, _“In a heartbeat.”_

And _fuck_. Klaus would relive this moment a million times if he could, just to see the look of pure adoration on Dave’s face, and the surprise, even after ten months together, on his own.

In this moment, Klaus wants nothing more than to just jump in, as soon as his past-self walks away, and tell Dave _everything_ , to beg Dave to leave with him. After all, that’s what he came here for, right?

From afar, Klaus watches as his past-self, with a quick kiss and a teasing jut of his hips, walks away, and Dave simply stands there in awe, and _fuck_ , Klaus missed this the last time around. He missed when Dave watched him go, leaning up against the truck, unable to wipe the smile from his face or the adoration from his eyes, and it hits Klaus hard. In an instant, he feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

Klaus knows that he should act now, that he should grab Dave, take him home and never look back.

But it’s not that easy, and he knows it.

Five was right. Disturbing this moment in his past would cause a domino effect. One that might cause the rest of his siblings to die, that might stop them from saving everyone else, eventually.

Klaus wants Dave back more than anything else in the world, but he also wants a world for him and Dave to share and unfortunately, he can’t have both.

So Klaus leaves. With tears in his eyes and an ache in his chest, he leaves.

Back in his own timeline, Klaus is only really gone for about fifteen minutes, but apparently, that’s long enough for Number Five to notice that the briefcase is gone, because with a flash of blue light, Klaus is back in his brother’s bedroom and Five is standing on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed, face hard.

Klaus doesn’t even spare him a look. He just tosses the briefcase on the bed, defeated, and moves to leave the room without a word.

Five stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Five hisses.

“My room,” Klaus attempts to shake him away, but his brother is persistent, “Leave me alone.”

 _“No!”_ Five shouts, shoving Klaus backwards slightly. “No, you don’t get to pull that shit and then not say anything! What the hell were you thinking?”

Klaus sighs, running a hand through his hair. He can almost still feel the humidity in it and his chest lurches. He feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I wasn’t,” he mutters.

“Well no shit,” Five spits, “What did you do?”

Klaus sighs, “I didn’t _do_ anything.”

Five scoffs, rolling his eyes. Such a childish behavior for a man in his 50’s. “How am I supposed to believe that?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Klaus mutters, finally shoving past Five and moving to exit the room. “You’d think I was lying either way, so what does it matter?”

Five doesn’t physically stop him, but his words have Klaus pausing in the doorway. “Shit…” he says, “You really didn’t change anything.”

Klaus doesn’t turn around, though. He can’t look Five in the eyes when he admits, “Yeah, maybe what you said got to me. Or maybe I’m thinking clearer sober. Who knows.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Klaus hovering in the doorway, Five’s presence heavy behind him. And just as Klaus is finally about to walk away, Five says, voice quiet, “I’m proud of you, Klaus.”

Those are words that Klaus has been craving all his life. From his father, his siblings, the woman at group therapy, _anyone_ at rehab, strangers… It should thrill him that Five is saying it now, but Klaus just feels… numb.

It’s ironic, considering he _isn’t_ fucked up. Well, he is… just in a different way entirely

Klaus sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, whatever.”

* * *

 

Just like their argument months prior, Klaus and Five don’t speak of the incident with the briefcase again. They don’t _stop_ speaking, though. In fact, Five takes to checking in on Klaus rather frequently, asking how he can help with is training, offering to help with some guided meditation… They actually grow a bit closer as time goes on, but they don’t speak of their fights. They are still Hargreeves children, afterall. Emotionally stunted and stubborn to a fault.

But Five _does_ help.

About two weeks later, they’re sitting in Klaus’ room together. Klaus is sitting cross-legged on his bed, barefoot, wearing nothing but a borrowed skirt and a deep purple cardigan, while Five sits on the floor, watching, instructing. With his eyes closed, Klaus imagines what it would have been like if his training had been like _this_ when he was a kid. If his father had just been gentle and patient.

“Get out of your own head,” Five instructs, seemingly reading his thoughts.

Klaus frowns, but doesn’t open his eyes. “How do you know I -”

“I can see the crease on your face. You’re thinking about dad,” Five says and _shit_ , he’s good.

“How -”

“Because we _all_ get that look when we think about that bastard,” Five explains. “Now come on, Klaus. Concentrate. Is Ben here right now?”

Klaus cracks an eye open to glance at his deceased brother, sitting across from him on his bed. “Yeah,” he sighs.

“Good,” Five replies, “Now… My powers are obviously different from yours, but they’re the same in the sense that they’re a bit unpredictable.”

Klaus nods.

“I can control mine with logic and equations and focus,” Five continues, “But I think yours are… A bit more abstract. Tell me, how did you feel that night in the theatre, when you made Ben appear?”

Klaus takes a deep breath through his nose, then exhales it though his mouth. “Scared,” he answers, “Pissed off. Frustrated. Desperate.”

“Good, okay,” Five says, “And what about when Ben helped you save Diego?”

Klaus searches his memories. It feels like yesterday that he watched Ben drag Diego out of the way, effectively saving his life. “Helpless,” he murmurs.

“And what about when Ben punched you?”

Klaus lets a small smile fall over his face. Of course, the first time Ben had to actually make contact with him, it was to literally punch the pills out of his mouth. “Upset,” he replies, “Angry… Heartbroken.”

“Alright,” Five murmurs, “So latch onto those emotions. Even the emotions you feel right now. It seems that your powers are tied directly to your emotions. You just need to latch onto one of them to anchor you. Focus on it and nothing else.”

Klaus takes another deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He focuses on his disappointment, because he should have been able to figure this out months ago, but ultimately, decides to let that ugly emotion go. Then comes the frustration, but Klaus can practically see Ben shaking his head at that.

“Try something more powerful,” Ben insists, his voice gentle. “You’ve got this, Klaus.”

So, clearing his mind of negative thoughts, Klaus takes another deep breath and focuses on hope.

 _Hope_ that they’ll be able to figure this fucked up mess out. Hope that they’ll be able to fix Vanya and return to their timeline and stop the end of the world. Hope that Allison will be able to see Claire again and he’ll be sober enough to finally meet his niece.

 _Hope_ … that Ben will finally be able to talk to the rest of his siblings again.

Hope that he’ll be able to see Dave once more.

Klaus hears Five gasp from across the room and his eyes fly open.

The first thing he notices when he looks down is the blue light emanating from his hands. The next is the way that the bed dips under Ben’s weight in front of him, as if he’s actually solid, as if -

Klaus glances from Ben to Five, and the wide-eyed look on his brother’s face tells him everything he needs to know.

“Can you -”

“Hey, Five,” Ben says, his voice soft, and _fuck_ -

Five is _crying_. Ben is on the verge of tears, and Klaus feels wetness pricking behind his eyelids as well.

_He did it. He really did it, he -_

“Holy shit, you did it,” Five breaths, echoing Klaus’ thoughts. He stands from his place on the floor, and quickly crosses the room, throwing his arms around Ben’s shoulders without thinking and -

And he’s met with a solid form. Klaus can’t wipe the smile from his face.

* * *

 

It turns out that Klaus is only strong enough to keep Ben corporeal for a few minutes at a time without completely exhausting himself, but it’s better than nothing. It’s further than he has ever come before.

For the next couple of weeks, he works with each of his siblings to bring Ben back for a few minutes so they can see each other, touch and talk. It’s rewarding for Klaus, who finally feels as if he’s getting a hang of his powers, but he knows it’s even more so for Ben. Ben, who has been watching his siblings grow up for over a decade, unable to talk to or touch any of them. It’s better than anything that Klaus ever could have hoped for, and he knows that the same is true for Ben.

So it figures that the longest he is able to keep ben in his physical form is when they’re alone one night, Klaus practicing his meditation while his siblings are helping Vanya train.

Ben is solid for an entire twenty minutes that night, and fifteen of them are spent in Klaus’ arms.

But still, despite how many times as Klaus is able to bring Ben back to the world of the living, even if for just a few minutes, he still finds himself unable to purposely conjure any other ghosts. Each and every night before bed, Klaus sits up, focusing on Dave, and Dave alone, latching onto each and every emotion that the other man has made him feel - hope, passion, excitement, lust, love… heartache - but to no avail.

Klaus even attempts to conjure dear old dad, just to shove it in his face, but nothing.

And, two weeks later, when Diego comes to him, nervous and anxious, Klaus has to tell him that he won’t be able to conjure Patch, either, that he hasn’t been able to conjure _any_ spirits from their timeline, no matter how hard he tries.

“Why?” Diego asks, sitting on the edge of Klaus’ bed. Not upset, just curious.

Klaus sighs. “I don’t know, I’ve been trying to figure that out. Maybe it’s wherever we are right now? When I was in 1968, Ben couldn’t follow me because technically, he wasn’t a ghost yet. Maybe the same thing applies to… _whatever_ this timeline is.”

“Fuck,” Diego mutters, “That’s hard to wrap your head around.”

“I know,” Klaus mumbles, “I’m starting to sound like Five.”

Diego claps a hand over Klaus’ shoulder, a brief display of brotherly affection. “Well, hopefully we won’t be here for too much longer, and you won’t have to worry about that,” he offers.

Klaus nods. “Yeah, I mean… Either that, or I just suck at this, which is entirely plausible.”

“Don’t say that,” Diego inists, “You don’t suck. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Klaus huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah? How so? Other than being able to bring Ben back for a few minutes at a time, I haven’t accomplished shit.”

“Yes you have,” Diego offers, “You’re finally in control of your powers for the first time in your life, and you’re clean and sober without the help of any bullshit twelve step program, and I _know_ how hard that is.”

Klaus glances up at Diego. “You do?”

With a nod, Diego says, “That first year, after I got kicked out of the academy, I didn’t do anything but drink. Figured if I couldn’t remember it, then it wouldn’t hurt so bad.”

“Shit,” Klaus mutters, “Diego, I didn’t know -”

“It’s okay, nobody did,” Diego insits, brushing the comment off. It’s something that they’ll have to revisit later. “The point is, Klaus, you’re one of the strongest people I know, and I know that you’re going to figure this shit out. I believe in you.”

By the time Diego leaves his room that night, Klaus is able to bring Ben back for a full hour, but try as he might, he still can’t conjure Dave, or Patch or dad. And when he goes to sleep that night, he certainly feels more hopeful than he did in the morning, but still just as frustrated and lost as ever.

* * *

 

_Klaus is back in Vietnam, but it’s different, this time around. Peaceful, in a sense, but he can’t shake the underlying fear that something bad is about to happen if he lets his guard down for just a second._

_The battlefield is barren, bloody and desolate. But most importantly, it’s completely empty. There’s not a single soul in sight for miles, and everything feels incredibly still. Quiet. In fact, Klaus isn’t even sure until he calls out, and even then, he doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not._

_“Hello?”_

_His voice doesn’t echo, necessarily, but it falls flat. Unheard._

_It isn’t until he spies the foxhole that Klaus remembers this exact location. Here, lying in mud, screaming as gunfire roared overhead, Klaus held Dave in his arms as he died._

_Why is he here?_

_Klaus scrubs his hands over his face, pressing knuckles into his eyes, as if he can will the sight to change. As if he can will it all away._

_However, when he opens his eyes again, nothing has changed. Nothing has, but at the same time, everything has changed since Klaus was here last._

_Quietly, he finds himself wondering what Dave would think, if he saw him now. He and Dave had countless conversations about his childhood trauma, his addiction, about his attempts to overcome it. Although Dave didn’t know all of the details, he knew enough. And now, Klaus can’t help but wonder what Dave would think if he could see him now, nearly six months sober (save for a few small hiccups here and there) and getting stronger every day._

_But then, he doesn’t have to wonder, because suddenly, there’s a voice calling out his name, and he knows that voice. How could he ever forget it?_

_“Klaus?”_

_Klaus knows that it’s Dave before he even turns around, but that doesn’t stop the way that his heart lurches in his chest when he sees his face. It’s a face that he has been dying to see since that fateful day in 1968 and one that he has tried to conjure countless times before now, but to no avail._

_Even dreaming, Klaus knows that it isn’t real, but that doesn’t stop him from taking a staggering step forward. “Dave…” he murmurs, voice raspy, pained, “Dave, I’ve missed you.”_

_Then, they’re embracing, and it feels so real that Klaus could cry. Dave feels warm and solid against him, he smells just how he remembers, holds him just how Klaus likes and fuck -_

_Klaus lets out a shuddering sob against his chest, gripping him tight, unwilling to let go._

_“I’m sorry,” he finds himself repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Dave, I tried, I did, I -”_

_“Klaus,” Dave interrupts, voice stern. He pulls away, just far enough to look Klaus in the eyes, “Don’t apologize, it’s okay, you’re okay.”_

_“No, you don’t understand, I tried so hard to conjure you and -”_

_“That’s all that matters,” Dave insists. He reaches up, brushing the tears from Klaus’ cheek with his thumb. “I know you tried, and that’s all that matters.”_

_“But you’re not -” Klaus cuts himself off, then tries again, “I couldn’t -”_

_“You’ve grown so much,” Dave insists, “And you still have so much to learn, Klaus. This isn’t the end, I promise.”_

_Klaus nods, even though he can feel more tears welling in the corners of his eyes, even though he knows that none of this is real, that he’ll wake up soon, and Dave won’t be here._

_“I’m not giving up,” Klaus promises, even though he knows that Dave can’t really hear him. Even though he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and this will all be a distant, foggy memory of a dream._

_Dave smiles in response. “You always were stubborn,” he says, voice fond, loving._

_“You know it,” Klaus chokes out, forcing a smile._

_“Then try something for me,” Dave offers, and when Klaus cocks his head in response, he continues, “Stop holding onto this moment.”_

_When Klaus parts his lips to speak, Dave cuts him off._

_“This can’t be your anchor,” Dave says, his eyes traveling to the foxhole. Klaus follows his gaze, his own eyes locking onto the place that Dave died. “You need to let this go.”_

_“But -”_

_“Don’t forget me,” Dave continues, “But forget this moment, because there are so many more important ones to remember.”_

_And, as if on command, Klaus closes his eyes, willing himself to recall those memories -_

_Dave, placing a gentle hand on his cheek in the back of the bar. Their first kiss, shared only moments later. The way Dave had held him after their first time together, the way Dave gasped his name the next morning when Klaus sunk to his knees at the foot of the bed…_

_Dave, promising him that as soon as they got out of this, they’d run away together. Promising Klaus that he’d follow him anywhere. Soft, whispered I love you’s._

_\- and when he opens them again, Dave is gone._

* * *

 

When Klaus wakes, it’s with a gasp, nearly sitting straight up in bed, and it takes him a moment to gather his senses, to determine what is real and what isn’t.

For the past few months, alongside his daily meditation, Klaus has been practicing lucid dreaming, controlling his own dreams in an attempt to pull Dave from his subconscious and into the real world. It was a shot in the dark, something that Five had suggested on a whim, and he hasn't been successful thus far. In fact, as it turned out, lucid dreaming was almost harder than making Ben tangible again, but this…

 _This_ felt different, and when Klaus reaches his hand up to scrub over his face, his eyes are still wet with tears.

 _That’s new_.

The dream is still fresh in his mind, dream-Dave’s words still resonating in his head - _this can’t be your anchor_ \- and suddenly, it feels like everything clicks into place. Klaus knows that he has to do.

Without bothering to turn on any lights, Klaus sits up in bed, crossing his legs, relaxing his hands, closing his eyes, and he _breathes._

Rather than focusing on his final, freshest memory of Dave - the painful image burned into his mind - Klaus turns his mind to his favorite memories of the other man and everything that he loved about him. He focuses on Dave’s eyes, the way he looked at him when he appeared in the tent that fateful night, half clothed and beat to shit. He focuses on Dave’s lips and the way they felt against his own the first time they kissed, then the second, third, fourth, fifth, until Klaus loses count. He focuses on Dave’s hands, strong but gentle all the same, remembering the way that Dave had pressed him up against a wall, into a bed one moment, then gently brushed a stray hair from his face the next. Hands that could kill, hands that _had_ killed, but showed Klaus nothing but love and kindness.

He remembers every single night that Dave stayed up with him, helping him through an ugly withdrawal or talking to him about his family. He remembers the way that Dave looked at him when he thought Klaus wasn’t paying attention, the way he held him when nobody else was looking.

He focuses on the way Dave made him feel. Safe, secure, loved. Like he finally belonged somewhere.

And he remembers Dave’s voice, soft and reassuring, strong and commanding. What he’d do to hear that voice again…

 _“Dave…”_ Klaus breathes into the darkness of his room, his own voice coming out in just a soft whisper, barely loud enough to hear.

So he doesn’t expect anything in return. Klaus has lost track of how many times he has called out Dave’s name into his dark room in the middle of the night to no response. He’s lost count of how many times he has attempted to conjure the other man, so when he whispers his name tonight, he certainly doesn’t expect anything in response, especially not a soft voice, murmuring his name. 

“Hey, Klaus.”

At first, he thinks he’s just hearing something, maybe the remnants of a dream, but that doesn’t stop Klaus from opening his eyes, breaking the stillness of his bedroom in search of something, _anything_ tangible.

He catches the glint of the helmet in the dim light before anything else, and his heart leaps in his chest because no, _no, it can’t be._ He has tried this too many times, and what makes this one different? It has to be a dream, it can’t be real it -

But then, Klaus is reaching over to turn on the light, something he did countless times as a child to chase the ghosts away, only, this one stays.

When he meets Dave’s eyes from across the room, the breath is knocked from his lungs. He feels like he’s been hit by a truck, blindsided.

It feels like falling in love all over again.

“Dave,” he whispers, disbelieving, even as the other man offers him a smile in response. “Is it really you?”

Then, Dave is nodding, grinning, taking a tentative step forward, then another. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “It’s really me.”

Before he knows what he’s doing, before he even knows if Dave is tangible or if he’ll just fall right through him, Klaus is launching himself off of his bed and into the arms of the man he loves. And Dave meets him halfway, arms wrapping around Klaus’ slender frame.

Unable to control his emotions, Klaus’ buries his face in Dave’s chest, his shoulder, anything that he can touch or reach. It doesn’t feel real, but at the same time, it’s the most _alive_ Klaus has felt in months. And when Dave presses a gentle kiss to his temple, Klaus _knows_ that he isn’t dreaming.

“Fuck,” he mutters into military-issued clothing, Dave’s own dog tags clinking around his neck as he moves, “I’ve missed you.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I'm thinking of writing a separate little epilogue to this, just for the excuse to write some more Dave and Klaus, but I don't want to go overboard... So tell me what you think! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for giving this a shot! It's always daunting writing for a new character/fandom and this just makes me want to do so much more for Klaus in the future. <3
> 
> (EDIT: I did end up adding an epilogue because I can't get enough of these two. You can read it [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041405).


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